The Angel and the Whore
by angelic tourniquet
Summary: Future fic. What happens to one whose dreams were never fulfilled? How do you mend something so broken? Quinn tries desperately to save Rachel from herself. Can love really heal all things? Rated for drug use, sex and language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello again! This is kind of a dark piece. It kinda just occurred to me and wouldn't leave me alone. Please review! It would be greatly appreciated!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee or any of the characters. I also have no rights to the featured song "Nowadays" from the musical _Chicago_. "Mr. Karl Hillcrest" is my own creation though.

* * *

Quinn Fabray hugged her cashmere coat closer to her body as she assessed the entrance of the seedy club. The neon sign flickered desperately against the darkness, some of the letters dead to their purpose. Inside now, she made her way to the table the scantily clad waitress had directed her to. Quinn's mind was screaming its protest at having to set foot in this sleazy atmosphere, but it was a potential client and her law firm insisted that she go to New York to meet him personally. Quinn thought she would get a small taste for the hungry city; after all, she was about to make partner at the firm and head up the new offices in New York. She wrinkled her nose at the mixture of odours that assaulted her. She stared down at a bulky man, sipping a tumbler of whiskey and eyeing up every waitress's legs as they passed.  
"Mr. Karl Hillcrest?" said Quinn, commanding the man's attention immediately.

"Yes," he nodded, taking in Quinn's appearance. She was glad she had opted for pants this evening, although she could still feel him undressing her with his eyes.

"I'm Quinn Fabray. We spoke on the phone."

"Ah, yes, Quinn," he said nodding appreciatively.

"'Miss Fabray' will do fine," she corrected him flatly.

"Well, Miss Fabray," he emphasized, giving her a condescending smile, "So nice of you to join me. Can I get you a drink?" He didn't wait to hear Quinn's reply as he motioned over a brunette waitress wearing a three-inch skirt and an equally invisible, low cut top. Quinn's heart stopped momentarily as she looked at the waitress. The brunette bumped into the table, almost falling into Mr. Hillcrest's excited lap. He shook his tumbler and the brunette nodded while he tucked a bill into the band of her skirt, leaving his hand there longer than was necessary. As she turned back towards the bar he gave her ass an audible smack. Quinn all but threw up at the man's disgusting manners. Her eyes followed the brunette as she waited for the order to be filled. _That can't be…_ she questioned. _No way is that…_ Quinn's train of thought was suddenly halted by the sound of Mr. Hillcrest clearing his throat. "So what can my firm do for you?" she asked, without missing a beat.

"I'm looking for representation," he said. "I've had a little run in with Lady Justice," he chuckled. The brunette came back with his drink then and Quinn hurriedly scrutinized her face. She was eager to make her escape without another slap though, and dashed to the stage. "You seem distracted Miss Fabray," he said chuckling again. "That's why I come here. The ladies are friendly and know how to show a man a good time." He put his index finger to his nose and shot Quinn a knowing look, "As long as you can pay for it." He smiled hungrily at her. Quinn's mouth dried up like Death Valley in July. She swallowed hard and kept her composure. She now knew two things. One: she was _not_ going to represent this pig of a man; and two: there was no way that waitress on the stage was who she thought she was. "Let's enjoy the entertainment," he said, turning his attention towards the stage.

When the young woman opened her mouth to sing Quinn knew without a doubt that it was indeed, Rachel Berry.

She was a little worse for wear but there was no mistaking that familiar stage presence. Rachel began to sing "Nowadays" from the musical, _Chicago_. Quinn could only stare perplexedly at the sight of the former starlet. She wondered how Rachel had wound up here.

"_You can like the life you're livin'_

_You can live the life you like,"_

Rachel started her striptease and danced around the stage to thrilled applause and whistles. Quinn couldn't watch the train wreck happening on stage but found it harder to look away. She sat in her seat dumbstruck and pained. Rachel ended her routine wearing nothing but a lacy g-string. Mr. Hillcrest rose awkwardly from his seat and cheered loudly. "I might ask her for an encore," he winked at Quinn.

"Please excuse me," said Quinn, struggling to maintain professional courtesy when she would rather have buried her stiletto in his groin. He was already looking for another waitress before she had even risen from her seat.

Quinn marched towards a bored looking waitress who was chewing absentmindedly on a strand of her orange hair.

"Excuse me," said Quinn politely, "Where can I find the," she stumbled over an appropriate word to use, "The young woman who was just on stage?" The waitress stared at her with interest.

"You mean Ellie?" searched the waitress. He eyes lit up and she flashed Quinn a flirtatious smile as she said, "Oh you don't want her sweetie, I can take care of you just fine." Quinn tried to ignore the obvious sexual proposition.

"She's an old friend," she informed the waitress.

"Yeah, she's got a lot of friends," scoffed the waitress derisively. "But she don't do girls." The woman took in Quinn's hard expression and quickly followed with, "But don't take my word for it. She's probably 'round the back, her shift's just finished." And with that she moved towards a table of men who were waving her over.

Quinn exited the club and made her way to the side alley where the rear door was. Her eyes darted wearily over her surroundings. She calmed herself and hoped that Rachel hadn't left already. She slowed her steps at the sound of scuffling and a quiet yelp. Quinn squinted down the dimly lit alley and saw a man pressed tightly against a smaller figure. At the sound of cloth being torn and the helpless whimpers of a woman Quinn pulled out her cell phone and shouted as confidently as she could, "You better leave her the hell alone. The cops will be here any second." Her voice was icy venom. The man backed off but not before threatening his victim.

"I'll be back to collect," he hissed at her and then punched her severely in the stomach. He took off running and when Quinn was sure he wasn't coming back she raced to the collapsed woman. She was holding her stomach and groaning what sounded to Quinn like, "But I need it… I need it." Quinn gently tilted the woman's face upwards to assess the damage. Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh God, Rachel?" she cried. She took in the brunette's bruised face and tattered clothing and starting dialling 911. "It's okay Rachel, I'm calling an ambulance," she said reassuringly. Rachel grabbed hysterically at the phone.

"No, no hospitals. No," she shrieked wildly. Quinn grabbed her hand in an effort to calm her down. "It's alright," cooed Quinn. "I'll take care of you." She struggled to keep her voice even. _What the hell happened to you Rachel? _Her mind screamed, devastated. Rachel's protests were placated when Quinn laid a warm, soft hand against her clammy cheek. "Am I dead? Is this heaven?" asked Rachel, bewildered. "I always knew you'd be my angel." Quinn was suddenly worried that Rachel had a concussion.

"Okay, it's time to get you somewhere safe," she said, gently helping her to her feet. Quinn pulled off her coat and wrapped it around Rachel's shoulders. Then securing her arm around her waist to support her, she helped the unsteady girl towards the street and hailed a taxi.

It was a short drive to the address Rachel had mumbled in the cab. Quinn stared at the derelict apartment building and fought off a shudder. Most of the windows were boarded up with planks of wood, the rest were cracked or broken. Quinn sidestepped past puddles of vomit as she followed Rachel to the entrance of the building. The brunette seemed to have forgotten she was even there. Rachel clumsily climbed the three flights of stairs to her apartment. Quinn followed her noiselessly. When Rachel flicked the light switch Quinn stared in horror at the squalor Rachel was living in. The apartment was barely big enough to fit three people in it, the floor was littered with garbage and the place was barren except for a dingy looking bed and a few miserable pieces of furniture. Rachel sat on the floor and rummaged through the filth trying to find something. "Rachel?" said Quinn, trying to get the girl's attention.

Rachel didn't seem to notice. She picked up a small tin and tipped its contents into the mess. She growled angrily and pitched the small container across the room and into the wall. In her violence the coat had slipped off her frame. Quinn stood frozen in place as she saw the track marks on Rachel's delicate arm. The realisation was enough to jolt Quinn back into herself. "Damn it Berry!" she yelled furiously. "What the hell were you thinking?"

The sound of the familiar name from Quinn's lips made Rachel look up at her. "Quinn?" she said softly. Her eyes were full of disbelief, like she really had thought it was all a dream. She rubbed her arms self-consciously and gathered herself up from the floor. "Thanks for bringing me home but you have to go now. I have to go out and get something," said Rachel, the words tumbling carelessly out of her mouth. Quinn gazed at the trembling brunette and knew what she wanted to get. "Rachel please, let me help you," Quinn pled. Rachel's eyes filled with shame and then rage.

"Just fucking leave!" she yelled at Quinn. "Go back to your life and forget you ever saw me!" She pushed her roughly until she was out of the door. Quinn was too hurt to even object.

In her hotel room Quinn struggled to keep the images in her head at bay. _Rachel Berry, bruised and broken, a junkie_, she thought miserably. The scenes kept playing through her mind like a bad movie. She needed to do something. She needed to help Rachel out of this mess. She strengthened her resolve and grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand to make a few calls.

It was early next morning when Quinn found herself staring at Rachel's apartment door. She took a breath and raised her fist to knock but the door flew open and a man pushed past her, fumbling to close his zipper and pull on his jacket at the same time. Quinn poked her head through the door to see if there were anymore 'guests'. She strode slowly into the confined space and found Rachel sprawled naked across the bed. She was staring at the ceiling, tracing invisible shapes through the air with her finger. Quinn took a moment to compose her features and stifled her tears for the drugged up girl. Rachel's head lolled to the side and she glimpsed Quinn's heartbroken figure. "Quinn," slurred the brunette excitedly. "I was hoping I'd have that dream again." Rachel tried to sit up but failed miserably; so instead she just lay there laughing. Quinn searched desperately for a few of Rachel's essential items. She emptied Rachel's purse and threw her wallet and keys into it. She grabbed what she hoped were clean enough clothes from the floor and then turned to face Rachel. Quinn sat down next to her, careful to avoid the used needles staring at her from the nightstand. "Rachel," she said softly, sweeping the matted hair from her face as she searched for familiar chocolate eyes. "You need to come with me now," she said firmly. Rachel stared at her blankly. Quinn wasn't sure if she could even understand the words she was saying. "I'm going to dress you now, okay?" she said in a calming voice, trying hard not to spook her. Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand and kissed it gently. "Look, I'm already naked," drawled Rachel. She spread her legs suggestively and continued, "You can do anything you like. Just twenty dollars," she smiled. And then in a too loud voice that was meant to be a whisper she added, "I'm giving you a discount because you remind me of this girl I used to know. I loved Quinn Fabray." Rachel let go of the blonde's rigid hand, her attention captured by something on the other side of the room. The words were like acid to Quinn. _How long have you been destroying yourself like this?_ The thought twisted painfully in her mind as tears started freefalling down her cheeks. Quinn grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and pulled her into an upright position.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a nonchalant tone, smiling stupidly.

"I know Quinn Fabray. Would you like to see her?" Quinn's voice broke on the words. Rachel's eyes widened at the prospect. "I can take you to see Quinn, if you like?" struggled the blonde again. Rachel stood up and draped herself over Quinn.

"Really?" she purred.

"Yes," she said. "We just have to get you dressed and I'll drive you there," she answered, hastily wiping at the tears that spilled from her eyes. Rachel beamed at her and raised her arms above her head while Quinn pulled the sweatshirt over her. She steadied Rachel as she blundered into the sweatpants she held out for her. Rachel squealed with delight as Quinn escorted her out of the apartment and down the stairs.

"Where's Quinn? Where's Quinn?" asked Rachel excitedly.  
"We're going to drive there Rachel," said Quinn soothingly, walking her towards the rental car. She helped the buzzed brunette into the passenger seat and strapped her in before climbing into the driver's side.

"Here we go," breathed Quinn. And she started the engine and put as much distance as she could between them and that hellhole.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry to keep you waiting, but I wanted this to be... accurate? I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know that there is now a special place reserved just for me in Hell because of this... lol. Please Read and Review. Your comments are appreciated, and needed. Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee... blah blah I don't make any money off here... blah blah. Cunningham is mine obviously, as is Tony.

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Quinn shut the door on the wailing girl in the room. She sunk to the floor and her body convulsed with sobs.

She had taken Rachel to a secluded house on the beach in Bridgehampton. She was grateful now that a client of hers had been generous enough to offer his holiday home to her whenever she was inclined. This was the first time she had taken up his offer.

After consulting a doctor friend, Quinn thought the fresh ocean air and relaxing, drug free environment was her best hope for detoxing Rachel. Her mind flashed back to part of the conversation she had had with Doctor Samuel Cunningham.

"Quinn, it's going to be bad," he said seriously.

"I know, but she can do this Sam," she answered.

"Can you?" he asked, his baritone voice full of concern.

"I'm Quinn Fabray."

Sam chuckled down the line, "Of course, what was I thinking? I'll see if I can juggle some things around and give her a consult."

Quinn smiled at his generosity. "Thanks Sam. Goodbye."

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she said softly to herself. She needed to be strong for Rachel's sake. Another howl pierced the air. Rachel was not happy with her current situation. She had been easy to placate before, but now withdrawal was setting in.

"Quinn Fabray, you let me out!" she yelled in a demonic voice.

"Rachel, I'm trying to help you," answered the blond on the floor.

"Then let me out, please. I can't stay here," she whined. "Quinn, you don't understand. I need it," she sobbed.

Quinn leaned her head against the door, grateful for the barrier between them. "No Rachel, you don't," she said firmly.

A roar vibrated against the door and Rachel clawed at the handle ferociously. Quinn sat there quietly until the girl exhausted herself.

A few hours later, Quinn brought in some refreshments. She found Rachel curled in a tight ball on the bed. "Rachel, you have to eat something," she insisted. Rachel groaned and pushed away the plate she was offered.

"It hurts so much," she cried, clutching at her stomach. She writhed and contorted her body in pain.

"I know," whispered Quinn soothingly, "But it won't last forever." Rachel kept twisting and inhuman grunts of agony escaped her mouth. Her body was shiny with sweat and the dark circles under her eyes made her look ghoulish. Quinn positioned herself next to Rachel on the bed. She rubbed Rachel's back while she kicked and jerked.

"Why are you doing this to me?" moaned Rachel.

"Because you're better than this, Rachel."

"What do you care?" she spat.

Quinn didn't answer.

"Let me go," moaned Rachel again. She cried desperately at the pain in her limbs, hugging herself as she thrashed against the bed.

"It's going to be okay," said Quinn, but Rachel only gurgled her discomfort.

"I have to pee," whined Rachel.

Quinn rose from the bed. "Okay, I'll take you."

"You're not going to watch are you?" she asked, incredulous.

"No. But I am going to wait outside." Rachel gave a brief nod and stood up with difficulty. Quinn walked her down the hallway to the bathroom. Rachel's eyes skimmed across her new surroundings. Quinn stood outside the open door while she relieved herself. She washed her hands and stepped back into the hallway. Quinn moved to take her arm but Rachel bolted down the hallway, trying to get to an exit. Quinn cursed and flew after her.

"Rachel, no," she said, trying to get her arms around her delicate frame.

Rachel bucked against her grip and screamed, "Let me go!"

They wrestled against each other and Rachel squirmed free. She pushed at Quinn who kept trying to wrangle her in. Rachel clawed at her and red, angry streaks appeared on Quinn's arm. She gasped at the scratches. Quinn extended her arm and slapped Rachel across the cheek. The sound of skin against skin cracked loudly through the hallway. Both women stood panting from the exertion. Rachel gripped her cheek. Quinn stood motionless; horrified at the way she had lost it.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. Rachel was still frozen; bewildered from the strike. Quinn gulped down air and tried to regain control of the situation.

"I want to lay down," said Rachel softly. Quinn nodded and took her back to the room. Rachel silently climbed onto the bed and curled tightly around herself. Quinn shut the door and left her alone.

Quinn threw herself into the chair by the desk. She couldn't believe she had hit Rachel like that. She felt like a monster. Sam had warned her about the agitation and anxiety that Rachel would succumb to. She knew that there would be begging and pain. She thought she would handle things better. Her laptop sounded an alert for a new e-mail. She groaned when she saw the sender. Her boss had not been happy to hear that she had effectually walked out of a business meeting. The e-mail demanded an explanation. Quinn let out a frustrated sigh. She needed to stay in New York to look after Rachel. She hurriedly made up an excuse, claiming that an emergency had arisen. She subtly drew attention to the fact that she had always made herself available prior to this incident and offered to work from her current location if the necessary files were sent to her. When Rachel screamed she hastily pushed send and closed the laptop.

Quinn raced into the little room. Rachel looked like she was trying to crawl out of her skin. "I don't feel good," she squeaked, each word punctuated by a short gasp. "I'm going to be sick." Quinn grabbed the bucket from the corner of the room and set it in front of Rachel. The brunette heaved, dry-retching violently. Quinn gathered up her tangled, brown locks and pushed them out of the way as another wave of nausea shook Rachel. "I can't do this," gasped Rachel. She bent over the bucket again noisily. Quinn squeezed her shoulder gently.

"I know you can. I'm right here. We can do this together," she persisted.

"Why are you trying to help?" asked Rachel.

"Do you remember when you told Finn he wasn't the father?"

Rachel nodded, her head still buried in the bucket.

"You did for me what I was too scared to do for myself. I'm just returning the favour," answered Quinn while she rubbed Rachel's back. "You're scared and hurt right now, and it's my turn to be brave for you."

Rachel hoisted herself from the bucket slowly. Quinn moved so she could lie down. "Okay," she said softly.

The next twenty-four hours weren't as bad as the first. Rachel's body was slowly adjusting to the lack of heroin. Quinn let her shower, sitting against the wall while Rachel sat under the hot water for an hour. She rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms like they were crawling ants. Her muscles contracted painfully and Rachel screamed and moaned until her throat burned. Quinn finally turned off the water and wrapped Rachel in a towel. When she was ready, Quinn helped her dress and led her back to the room. When Rachel trembled violently, Quinn held her close and whispered reassurances of it all ending soon. When Rachel finally fell asleep, tucked in close to Quinn, she knew that the brunette was getting better.

Quinn woke up in a haze of confusion. She hadn't meant to sleep so long, but she had been exhausted. She smiled at the brunette curled against her. Rachel's body still trembled slightly, but she was asleep and breathing evenly. Quinn gently disengaged Rachel's fisted hand from her sweatshirt, kissing it lightly before placing it back on the bed. She got up and left the room to make breakfast.

A short while later, Rachel walked gingerly into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar. She outlined the shapes of the marble top with her finger while she watched Quinn make pancakes. Quinn set a glass of orange juice down in front of her. "Thanks," murmured Rachel. She sipped it cautiously, trying to remember how her throat worked. Music played softly from Quinn's laptop and Rachel's lips spread into a small smile as Quinn danced and hummed a little to the song. The song ended and another familiar tune followed it. Rachel turned to face the laptop sitting on the coffee table. "Who is that?" she asked, sensing familiarity. Quinn was looking at her, knowing the song would catch her attention.

"That's you, Rachel, singing 'Don't Rain on my Parade'. And you're amazing." When Rachel didn't say anything she continued, "Artie made me a copy a while ago."

Rachel scoffed, "Well, a while ago I used to be good." Her voice was full of pain.

"You were talented then," said Quinn, "Annoyingly so." She rolled her eyes playfully. "And talent like that doesn't just disappear." She spoke with a kind of finality on the subject. "Here, eat something," she said, putting a plate of pancakes on the breakfast bar. When Rachel didn't stir she added, "I will force feed you, Berry." Rachel grimaced but picked up her fork and tried tiny bites.

After breakfast Quinn and Rachel sat on the couch. Rachel took in the interior of the house for the first time. The carpet was soft and luxurious against her feet. The leather sofa was comfortable and spacious. She stared out of the panoramic window and across to the beautiful ocean outside. "Your house is lovely," she remarked. Quinn smiled.

"It's not mine. An acquaintance let me borrow the place for a while. He's away on business."

"Nice acquaintance," smirked Rachel.

"I have friends in high places," grinned Quinn.

"So what do you do?" she asked, trying to ignore the tremors in her hands. Quinn folded one leg underneath her and brought her other knee up onto the couch to rest her head on it.

"I'm a lawyer," she said. "Corporate stuff mostly." Rachel nodded.

"You don't live here?"

"I'm based in LA," answered the blond. Rachel sat quietly for a while, staring out of the window while Quinn studied her.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly. Rachel brought her brown eyes back to Quinn. Hazel eyes pierced her, encouraging her to talk.

"I was unprepared for the world I'd spent most of my life dreaming about," started Rachel. Quinn settled in to hear Rachel's story.

"I was a recent graduate of an esteemed performing arts school. I was dedicated, motivated and fresh from an accolade-studded scholastic career," she explained. "I'd been in a few small productions, making a name for myself. I'd landed bit parts in off-off-Broadway productions. But I wasn't complaining. Everyone has to start somewhere." She looked at Quinn who was listening attentively. Rachel pressed on. "I'd met a few people in the industry, knowing how important it was to self-promote and build networks. Tony was a director. He hadn't hit the big time yet, but had quite a buzz going around about him. He told me I was talented and that he would love to work with me." Rachel scoffed at her naïveté. "He recommended me for parts and told me about auditions. He got me a job as a waitress when roles were hard to come by. We started a romance, the budding director and the star-to-be. But it was all a lie," she said bitterly. "I wasn't the only one he'd been pedalling his bullshit to. Tony was a con artist. He would prey on stupid girls like me, girls who wanted to be Broadway stars. He took me to a party saying it was a good place to mix with like-minded people and gain contacts. The place was rife with alcohol and drugs. He told me to 'loosen up, relax a little babe,'" she said, mimicking a male voice. "And he offered me some heroin to snort. I was outraged of course. I'd never done any drugs before. I barely drank coffee. But he insisted that I try it. That everyone did it. Like I said, I was stupid." Rachel wrung her hands while she spoke. Quinn tried to fend off her tears. She realised that Rachel had come here with no real friends; she only had her talent and her dream. "I ended up just like all of Tony's girls. Hooked on junk and desperate for money; working at a sleazy bar; whoring myself out." Rachel broke down on the last admission. Quinn moved to console her but Rachel abruptly stood up and began pacing. "I later discovered that Tony had been running this scam for years. The bar gave him a cut for each new girl he recruited," Rachel spat. "We all traded stories."

Rachel was silent then.

"They called you Ellie at that place," said Quinn. "Why?"

Rachel smiled at the assumed name. "I didn't want anyone to find me so I employed a pseudonym. They couldn't pronounce 'Elphaba'," she laughed, "So it got shortened to 'Ellie'."

"'Elphaba', like from _Wicked_?" asked Quinn.

"Yes. That's exactly how I felt about my situation. The lying wizard, the fall from grace; it seemed poetic," she sighed. Quinn nodded.

Rachel looked exhausted from divulging her tale, and Quinn noticed her wince and grab her abdomen in complaint.

"Why don't we watch a movie?" suggested Quinn.

"No musicals," said Rachel.

"No musicals," Quinn agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all for your patience! And I'm afraid I must apologize for the mammoth size of this chapter! (let me know if you think it was too long, and I'll work on the length for the next chapter.) So... I hope you enjoy this. Please read and review. All your comments are appreciated, no matter how long or short. Thanks again!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee or the Glee characters. O/C Sam Cunningham is my own invention though. I also don't own the featured song.

* * *

Rachel couldn't concentrate on the movie for very long. And while both women had agreed to not watch a musical, Rachel struggled to enjoy the mindless action movie Quinn had found in the DVD selection in the entertainment unit. She clicked the television off and helped Rachel back to the comfort of her bed. Rachel suddenly pushed away from her and stumbled to the bathroom where she emptied her stomach. Quinn crouched behind her, taking Rachel's hair in her hands while the brunette gripped the porcelain bowl and heaved again. After twenty minutes, Rachel's stomach tightened painfully but there was nothing left inside of her. She slumped back against Quinn, exhausted and dizzy. Quinn whispered reassurances into her ear and carefully helped her to her feet. They shuffled down the hallway and into the room where Rachel collapsed onto the bed. Quinn disappeared, but quickly returned with a glass of water and a cold, wet washcloth. Rachel sat up and drank some of the water while Quinn gently wiped her forehead and neck with the cloth.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice and eyes full of concern as she surveyed Rachel. Rachel gave a slight nod. Quinn stood up and walked towards the door.

"Can you- will you stay?" stumbled the brunette softly. Quinn took two more steps towards the door and shut it. Then she returned to the bed and took her place beside Rachel.

"Thank you," she said. Her throat burned from throwing up and her body ached all over. Quinn rubbed her back as she started to cramp and seize again. Rachel moaned hollowly, twisting and curling around herself even though it didn't help. Quinn did the only thing she could think of to take Rachel's mind off the pain. Stroking the brunette locks splayed across the pillow, she opened her mouth and sang,

"_When you try your best but you don't succeed._

_When you get what you want, but not what you need._

_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep._

_Stuck in reverse."_

Quinn's breathy voice ascended beautifully on the last note. Rachel's movements seemed to ease as she sang.

"_And the tears come streaming down your face,_

_When you lose something you can't replace._

_When you love someone but it goes to waste,_

_Could it be worse?"_

She took a breath and started the chorus, still running her fingers through Rachel's soft hair.

"_Lights will guide you home,_

_And ignite your bones,_

_And I will try to fix you."_

Rachel rolled over to face Quinn, who extended her arm and invited Rachel to nestle into her. Rachel smiled and rested her head on Quinn's chest. When Rachel was comfortable she continued the song.

"_High up above or down below,_

_When you're too in love to let it go. _

_But if you never try, you'll never know,_

_Just what you're worth."_

She hugged Rachel closer to her, feeling the muscles contract and expand within her.

"_Lights will guide you home,_

_And ignite your bones,_

_And I will try to fix you."_

As Quinn sang the bridge she could hear Rachel softly singing an accompanying harmony at a higher pitch. She loved how their voices entwined with one another.

"_Tears stream down your face,_

_When you lose something you cannot replace._

_Tears stream down you face,_

_And I…_

_Tears stream down your face,_

_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes._

_Tears stream down your face,_

_And I…"_

Quinn could feel Rachel's tears soak through her tank top. She caressed her arm as she finished the song solo.

"_Lights will guide you home,_

_And ignite your bones,_

_And I will try to fix you."_

At the end of the song Rachel's body relaxed entirely and Quinn lay still, listening to her breaths deepen and even out until she fell asleep. She cradled her for an hour and then Rachel rolled over onto her other side and continued to sleep. Quinn decided to get up and check her e-mails, something she'd been avoiding all day. She covered Rachel with a blanket and planted a kiss on her temple, smiling at her own boldness when she pulled away. Rachel's lips pulled up a little at the corners of her mouth, but she was still sound asleep. Quinn wondered fleetingly what she dreamed about.

She walked into the vast living room and turned on her laptop. She found a new e-mail from her boss waiting in her inbox. The e-mail informed her that she could take four days to clear her emergency, as this had never occurred before. He also mentioned that he hoped it wasn't anything too serious, and would be looking forward to her return. Quinn sighed with relief. _One less thing to worry about_, she thought. She had been half expecting a dozen attached files for her to work on and was thankful for the curt understanding her boss had displayed. Quinn heard the ring tone of her cell phone sound loudly and reached over to answer the call.

"Quinn Fabray," she said in a professional tone.

"Hello Quinn, it's Sam Cunningham."

"Hey Sam, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I'm going to do something for you. I have some free time today and wanted to know if you'd like me to take a look at your friend?"

"That would be great, Sam. She's in a lot of pain."

"I can come over now."

"Thanks so much, I really appreciate this."

She hung up after giving Sam the address. It would take him about two hours to arrive so Quinn let Rachel sleep a little longer. And now that she didn't have to worry about work, she decided to rejoin her.

Rachel never slept for very long so when Quinn found chocolate eyes staring at her she smiled.

"I have someone coming to see you in a while," she said. "A doctor."

Rachel shrank back with worry. Quinn calmed her expression with a hand on her arm.

"It's ok, he's a friend." Rachel nodded but remained tense.

"When?" she asked, like she was inquiring when the world would end.

"He's driving here now from New York. Does it bother you? I was just worried; you're in a lot of pain. And I don't exactly have experience with this," said Quinn. She nervously chewed on her lower lip.

"I understand," said Rachel, "It's something that can't really be avoided."

"He wants to help, don't worry. He really is a nice guy." Rachel was surprised to find she bristled at the last remark.

It wasn't long before the doorbell rang, announcing the doctor's arrival. Quinn opened the door and greeted him. "Thank you so much," she said again, gesturing for Sam to come inside. Rachel sat on the sofa, her arms folded across her chest, bouncing her leg up and down. "Dr. Sam Cunningham, this is Rachel Berry," said Quinn. Rachel extended her hand to the tall, sandy-haired man.

"Hello Rachel, I've heard so much about you," said Sam taking her hand.

"Well, I'll give you some privacy," said Quinn, not sure of the protocol for house visits. When neither of them objected, she grabbed a magazine and ambled onto the balcony, shutting the sliding door behind her. She wanted to be close in case Rachel needed her.

"Okay, Rachel, I'm going to give you a quick exam first and then we'll talk a little. Is that alright with you?" said Sam.

"Okay, sure," replied Rachel, trying to sound nonchalant. Sam opened his bag and donned a pair of latex gloves. He took Rachel's blood pressure, temperature and checked her ears. As he looked her over he asked her questions regarding her drug use and what led her to start using. She kept her answers brief but informative. He then looked briefly at her arm, making sure that none of the track marks were infected and checked for signs of abscesses. "I'm going to draw blood now Rachel. We need to run tests and check for H.I.V, Hepatitis and anything else." She cringed at the words but nodded her assent and gave him her arm. She looked out the window towards Quinn. She was relieved to see her looking back, the magazine closed and forgotten in her lap. Quinn smiled encouragingly. "There, now that that's done," he said, placing the crimson filled vials in a zip lock bag. "Would you like her to come in and join us while we talk?" he asked, seeing the two locking eyes through the glass pane. Rachel turned back sharply, but he was already waving for Quinn to come in. She appeared next to Rachel and took a seat. "Well Rachel, everything appears to be okay. Your blood pressure's a little high, but that's to be expected. Can you tell me how you've been feeling? What symptoms have you been experiencing?" he asked in a friendly tone.

Rachel wrung her hands while she answered, "Cramps, muscle aches, nausea and vomiting," Rachel listed off.

"Also, she hasn't been sleeping much, she gets hot and cold sweats, and has no appetite," added Quinn.

Sam smiled at her, "Nothing gets past you I see." Quinn shifted a little, hoping she hadn't overstepped a line. She sent a furtive glance to Rachel, who only seemed surprised that she had paid so much attention to her. "All of this is normal," Sam assured them both. "Your body is just adjusting and trying to reset itself to how it was before the heroin entered your system. I can write you a prescription to help with the cramps and muscle aches," he said. "It should also ease the anxiety and agitation; and because it's a mild sedative you should be able to sleep better." He took out his prescription pad and started filling in the details. "I'll also give you something for the nausea."

"Thank you," said Rachel graciously. Sam tore the scripts from the pad and handed them to Quinn. "One for Clonidine, and one for Domperidone," he said. "There should be a drugstore in town. Get them filled and maybe take Rachel out with you. You must be going crazy in here," he chuckled to the brunette.

"Quinn's been doing her best," smiled Rachel.

"But she hates action movies," sighed Quinn.

"Well, some fresh air will do her good," said Sam. He packed his bag and rose from the seat. "Is there anything else you'd like to talk to me about, Rachel?" he asked kindly. The brunette shook her head. "It was lovely to meet you," he said, "I'm sure you'll be just fine." Rachel stood and shook his hand.

"Thank you Dr. Cunningham." She saw him turn his attention to Quinn and decided it was her turn to give them some privacy. She said goodbye and wandered back towards her room, surreptitiously watching the two of them interact. Jealousy made an unwelcomed appearance as Quinn walked him to the door. She pulled her eyes away from the pair and stole away into the room.

Quinn and Sam stopped near the door. "You were right about her," he said. "She'll be fine as long as she can stay away from negative influences." Quinn nodded at his polite metaphor.

"Is there anything specific I should be doing?" she asked.

"Not really. The main concern is having her in a supportive and caring environment. From what I can see you're providing both. At this stage, she doesn't need rehab, but maybe at a later stage she can look at getting into 'Narcotics Anonymous'," he replied thoughtfully. Quinn stared worriedly at the floor. "She's going to get through this. And the medication will help ease her symptoms immensely." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You've been so generous with your time, Sam. I don't know how to repay you," said Quinn, looking up.

"Well, I'd ask you to dinner, but I know you'll just say no."

Quinn smiled. "I can't leave her."

"I know. But at least I don't have to feel bad about you turning me down. I get it now," he smiled teasingly. Quinn gave him a puzzled look. "It's clear where you heart is, Quinn. She's lucky," he said.

"I'm not following you," she replied hesitantly, caught off guard by his comment.

"The way you look at her, like she's the Holy Grail or something. I know you were concerned but I see now," he said warmly, no trace of jealousy or hurt in his soft voice. "It's more than that, it's love." Quinn felt a warmth rise into her cheeks.

_So that's what this is_, she thought. He gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"You'll figure it out," he said knowingly. "Goodbye Quinn. I'll put a rush on the blood work and call you with the results."

Quinn stared after him as he opened the door and retreated to his car. She shut the door when he pulled out of the driveway.

"He's nice," said Rachel awkwardly. She'd come out of her room at the sound of the door closing. Quinn turned at the sound of her voice.

"Yeah, I'm glad he came to check on you," she answered. Rachel laughed lightly.

"He didn't come all the way out here for me, Quinn." She flinched reflexively, wondering if Rachel had heard part of the conversation she'd had with Sam. Rachel fiddled with the sleeves of the sweatshirt she wore. "So, is he single?" she asked, trying not to wince as the words came out. This time Quinn laughed. Rachel loved the musical sound of her joy.

"It doesn't matter," she said coyly, "I'm not really interested."

"Oh, so he's asked you out before," deduced Rachel, raising her eyebrows with interest.

"You're trying to kick the habit and you want to talk about my _love_ life?" asked Quinn, arching an eyebrow.

"He said I needed to keep myself distracted, I'm still going through withdrawal," argued Rachel defensively. Quinn sighed. She needed to sort through the mess of emotions bubbling within her after Sam's pointed comments.

"You'll just have to find something else to distract you," she said definitively. A few things sprang to Rachel's mind at the comment, but she pushed them out of her head immediately. Quinn glimpsed Rachel's forlorn expression. "Come on, we'll go into town and get these filled," she said, holding up the prescription notes. Rachel smiled her agreement. She would get the story out one way or another.

They'd run errands in town and were now walking across the sand on the beach, enjoying the late afternoon sun. Rachel strolled barefoot toward the approaching waves, relishing the cold water lapping against her toes. "What are you thinking about?" asked Quinn, standing next to the brunette and staring at the horizon.

"Sometimes I still can't believe it," she answered.

"Believe what?" she asked.

Rachel squelched the sand between her toes, feeling the fresh ocean air caress he face. Quinn looked at her, waiting for an answer. She couldn't help but think how beautiful Rachel looked at that moment, drinking in the atmosphere around them.  
"That this is my life," she said, breaking Quinn's reverie. "I think about all the things I've done, how I've failed, how low I've sunk, how dirty I feel," she trailed off. She had revealed too much. "It's a long way from the determined, overbearing diva I was in high school," she laughed. "I don't know where to go from here."

"Believe me, I know what it's like to have the world at your feet, and then have it all ripped away from you," said Quinn.

"Oh come on Quinn, that was high school," countered Rachel.

"Exactly, you're still young. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. You've always been a forgiving person, Rachel. It's time you forgave yourself." Rachel continued staring out at the water, but Quinn's words had touched a piece of her. She could feel something inside her mending.

Quinn and Rachel lay side by side in the familiar room. Quinn was getting used to sleeping next to Rachel, whose gaze was fixed on the ceiling above them waiting for the medication to kick in and ease her discomfort. She groaned against the tightness in her muscles. "What's it like?" asked Quinn.

"You know, I don't remember you ever being this inquisitive before," said Rachel in a clipped tone. Quinn shrugged, "I picked it up in law school." She paused before pressing again, "So, tell me."

"Are you familiar with the Greek myth about the Titan, Prometheus?" asked Rachel. Quinn shook her head. Rachel resumed her staring contest with the ceiling and explained, "Prometheus stole fire from Zeus and gave it to man. As punishment, Zeus decreed that Prometheus be chained to this rock for all eternity. Each day, a giant eagle would descend upon Prometheus, peck at his liver and devour it. And because Prometheus was immortal, the liver would regenerate; forcing him to endure the pain over and over again each day."

Quinn looked horrified. "Is it that bad?" she questioned.

"I would've said 'like childbirth' but I'm not sure how that felt for you," teased Rachel.

"A bit like Prometheus's liver thing," quipped Quinn, "But I only had to do it once."

They let a comfortable silence settle over them, each content with the closeness of the other. "Do you think you'll do it again?" asked Quinn suddenly. She'd been thinking about what Rachel would do now. She knew she couldn't keep her here forever. "Use again, I mean," she qualified when Rachel remained silent. The brunette shifted uncomfortably. "I'm in so much pain right now, and I know I'm in this mess because of it, but I still can't help thinking about getting a fix," she answered, the words spilling out at top speed. "My head is screaming no, screaming that I shouldn't want it. But my body argues that if I just got a fix all this pain would melt into oblivion." Quinn nodded, staying silent. "I know that's not exactly what you wanted to hear," said Rachel.

"You were being honest," she replied, "I can't ask for more than that."

"Then let me be a little more honest," pushed Rachel. "I don't _want_ that life. I don't _want_ to use again. I don't _want_ to be a junkie whore," she exclaimed bitterly. "But I don't know if that's enough. I don't know if the need will just go away," she explained.

"Me either," said Quinn, "But we can get help from people who do," she said confidently. Rachel smiled at the word 'we'. "And I'll be there for you, and it will be different because you won't be alone." She sounded like she had already made up her mind about the future, and had everything figured out. She was busy making plans and organising things into tasks when Rachel's laughter broke through her mental flow chart. "What's so funny?" asked the blond.

"I can practically see the gears turning in your head, Quinn," she chuckled. "All your talk of 'we' and 'us' but you haven't even kis–" Quinn swallowed the rest of Rachel's words with a tender kiss. Quinn Fabray was never one to back down from a challenge. She pulled back panting slightly from the excitement.

"God, I thought you were _never_ going to kiss me," breathed Rachel blissfully. Quinn stared at her, chewing on her bottom lip, which now tasted like Rachel.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to," she answered, a soft blush colouring her angelic features. "And that waitress told me you 'didn't do girls'," she added playfully. Rachel laughed and moved her hand to place a few golden strands behind Quinn's ear.

"This might sound stupid," started the brunette, looking into the hazel eyes above her, "But the only woman I ever wanted to be with was you," she said timidly. "It didn't mean anything with those guys. I never gave myself to them. I was just a," she gulped hard, faltering a bit, "A 'thing'. Something to be used." She looked back up at Quinn nervously, fearing that a look of disgust for her may have found its way into her features. She panicked when instead she found hazel eyes swimming with tears. Quinn pulled Rachel into her arms protectively, embracing her with a fierce love. "I promise you, you will _never_ feel like a 'thing' ever again," she vowed. Rachel relaxed into the warm embrace and let her tears escape. She hadn't felt so safe in such a long time. Quinn held her while she sobbed, dropping light kisses on her hair, her forehead and whatever else she could reach.

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Featured song: "Fix you" by Coldplay. If you like, you can play the song while reading that part of the fic. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello again! Sorry this has taken so long. This chapter took a little bit of work, as I didn't really have a fully mapped out plan. Anyway, you've waited long enough so please enjoy. AND REVIEW. It really does help a lot. And I do appreciate your time.

A/N2: Sorry for the glitch earlier. I've reloaded the chapter doc and hope that the block of text that was the last scene has now been amended. Thanks to **Recall the Love **for pointing it out.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee or the characters. Just the plot line here.

* * *

The prescriptions Sam gave Rachel seemed to be working, but Rachel wasn't any easier to deal with. If anything, Quinn thought the petite brunette was even worse.

The drugs took the edge off the physical symptoms of withdrawal, but did nothing for the burning need Rachel was now faced with. She stood toe to toe with the demon of addiction, the endless thoughts of getting a fix, the sheer power of need. Sobriety only made her hate herself more, and without the pain to distract her, Rachel became unbearable.

Quinn took to unplugging the telephone and watching her every move with hazel, hawk-like eyes. It seemed they were far from the kissing and cuddling bliss of a couple of nights ago. Quinn mentally kicked herself for thinking it would be that easy. Not that she blamed Rachel; she just didn't know how to help her. And Quinn was running out of time. She didn't know if she could squeeze a few more days' leave of absence from her firm.

After yet another argument had resulted in the brunette yelling a string of obscenities at her, before slamming the door in her face, Quinn sat dejected on the couch. She grasped fistfuls of the soft, blond mess on her head and felt like tearing it out in frustration. The phone in her pocket started ringing and she fished it out to look at the screen. She gave a small smile before pressing the answer key. "Hey S," she said, trying not to sound as tired as she felt.

"Q, what's up? I got your e-mail?" said Santana, her tone confused.

"What? What e-mail?" asked Quinn.

"I thought so. It wasn't meant for me, huh?" she answered.

Quinn opened her laptop and searched through her outbox. There she found an email sent to Santana. In her haste the other day, she had mistakenly sent her a copy of the message intended for her boss.

"Q?" prompted Santana from the phone.

"Yeah S, sorry. That was an accident."

"So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Quinn smiled at the Latina's concern.

"I'm fine S, I'm just," she trailed off, not sure if she should tell Santana about Rachel. They had remained friends after high school, keeping in touch via e-mail and the occasional phone call.

"How are you? How's Brittany?" she asked instead.

"B's great. She's on tour still. I miss her, but that's what I get for having such a talented girlfriend," sighed Santana contentedly. Quinn smiled. Brittany always had been an amazing dancer. "And I'm gearing up for the annual cheer camp," continued Santana. Quinn could hear the excitement in her friend's voice. Santana Lopez's cheerleading camp, aptly named, 'Satan's Cheer Academy', was one of the top camps in the States. Santana's squads were highly ranked powerhouses, and she was an extremely sought after cheerleading coach. Santana once joked that she employed certain tactics garnered from the great Sue Sylvester, and that's why she was such a success.

"That's great S. I'm sure your girls will do you proud," said Quinn.

"So seriously Q, you need to tell me what's up," pressed the Latina. Quinn sighed; she knew Santana wouldn't be brushed off so easily.

"Well, it's Rachel. She's kind of in trouble," she admitted slowly.

"You mean Berry?"

"Yes S, Berry," she answered, rolling her eyes. _Maybe this isn't such a good idea_, thought Quinn.

"What kind of trouble?" she asked. Quinn studied her tone, trying to make up her mind about whether or not to tell Santana about Rachel's problem.

"I found her in New York and," Quinn seemed to struggle with the phrasing of her sentence. She decided to be straight with her, there was no reason to lie. "She's hooked on heroin, S. And I'm trying to help her, but it's hard and I don't really know what I'm doing."

The line was silent and Quinn thought the signal might have dropped. Then she heard a deep breath travel down the line. "Why are you helping her?" asked Santana.

Quinn studied her tone again. She didn't hear any spite, just curiosity.

"I guess, I just care about her," admitted the blond nervously. She steeled herself for the onslaught of laughter, disbelief or ridicule she thought was headed her way.

"Where are you?" asked Santana. Quinn was momentarily caught off guard. Then she remembered this wasn't the old Santana from high school. The bullshit of high school popularity and status had long since been forgotten in lieu of the real world.

"In Bridgehampton," she answered.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"S, no, it's okay," said Quinn quickly, shaking her head.

"Come on Q, you need help. And I –" Santana let the sentence drop. "I'll be there as soon as I can," she repeated. "Text me the address and I'll let you know when I'll be arriving."

Quinn didn't have a chance to rebuke the decision; the next thing she heard was silence as Santana ended the call. Quinn wasn't sure if she should be worried or relieved. She was playing different scenarios through her head when her text message alert made her jump.

_Address. NOW. _

Quinn replied immediately. The Latina obviously meant business.

Rachel sat at the breakfast bar with Quinn's phone pressed to her ear. "I have your results here Rachel. Everything's clear," said Doctor Cunningham.

"Thank you doctor," said Rachel, tapping her fingernails against the dark marble.

"How is the medication treating you? Has the pain eased?" he asked.

"Yes. The cramps and muscle aches have eased considerably," she answered.

"And how are you feeling?" he prompted.

"Like I could really use some heroin," she spat.  
"That's normal. This will all take time," he urged, unsurprised by her admission and her tone. "Have you given any thought to 'Narcotics–" Rachel dropped the phone onto the counter and stared angrily at Quinn. The blond bit back her own anger and picked up the phone.

"Sorry Sam, she's not in a very co-operative mood," said Quinn. Rachel flipped her off but Quinn ignored her.

"That's quite alright Quinn," he answered. "Like I told Rachel, her blood tests are all normal." Quinn's face flooded with relief.

"That's good news," she breathed.

"So, how are you coping?" he asked.

Quinn eyed Rachel warily, "I'm fine," she said flatly.  
"I know you're 'Quinn Fabray', but even _you_ need to sleep. You sound exhausted," said Sam.

"I know. Rachel's been difficult," she said truthfully, and she watched the brunette's shoulders slump at her words.  
"I can give you some numbers for clinics," he started to offer.

Quinn shook her head. "I want to keep that as a last resort," she said, somewhat resigned. Rachel's eyebrows shot up with curiosity. "Don't worry Sam, I have some reinforcements coming," she smiled. "I just hope she's helpful," she added under her breath.  
"Good. Just call if you need anything," he said.

"I will. Thanks, Sam. Goodbye."

As if on cue there was a knock on the door. Quinn took a deep breath as she went over to answer it. "Wow S, you made record time," smiled Quinn, looking at the dark haired Latina in front of her.

"Would've gotten here sooner but I had to talk Brittany out of bailing on the tour. She was really upset when I told her," answered Santana as she made her way inside. Rachel stared at the pair in the entrance. Her face was a mixture of anger, shock and discomfort. Santana set her overnight bag on the floor.

"She finally agreed to stay put, but made me promise I'd give you both hugs and 'fix things'," continued the Latina casually.

She hugged Quinn who joked, "Brittany gives the best hugs." Santana rolled her eyes. Rachel made a noise, something between choking and scoffing, from her seat.

"Hey Amy Winehouse," greeted Santana, turning to face the brunette.

"S, I thought Brittany told you to be nice?" reprimanded Quinn, arching a perfect eyebrow.

"She said to hug you, she didn't say anything about nice," answered the dark haired beauty with a smirk. "Speaking of," and she wrapped Rachel in a warm but brief hug. Quinn smirked and made a whipping noise. Santana shot her a dirty look, "I can still kick your ass Fabray," she threatened. Then she gave her a thoughtful look, "Besides, whipping's kind of fun." She grinned devilishly. Quinn rolled her eyes again but couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face. Rachel was bewildered at the dark haired woman's presence. "Relax Berry, I'm here to help," said Santana smoothly.

Rachel shot Quinn an alarmed look. "How many people have you told?" she shrieked.

"Just Santana, and she told Brittany. It was an accident, Rachel," said Quinn.

"Q didn't mean to tell me anything. But you need help. And so does Q," defended the Latina.

"I don't need help from you," spat Rachel, her eyes narrowing. "I need my fucking phone," she said, staring daggers at Quinn. The outburst took Santana by surprise.

"She wants to call her dealer," explained Quinn. Santana could hear the exhaustion in her voice. They had obviously been over this a million times. Santana turned to Quinn, "And do you have it?"

Quinn nodded. "Bring it here," Santana ordered. Quinn looked shocked and opened her mouth to protest but Santana shook her head. "Just do it, Q."

Quinn turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway to fish out Rachel's phone from its hiding place. She returned to find Santana with her own phone in hand, staring at Rachel's delighted face. Quinn reluctantly handed the phone to Santana, who scrolled through the contact list and added a few of the entries to her own phone. Then she smashed Rachel's phone against the edge of the marble breakfast bar. It shattered into pieces. Rachel's face shattered with it. She stared at the remnants of her phone and shook with rage. "You bitch!" she screamed, "What the fuck did you do?"

The Latina eyed up the enraged brunette and folded her arms across her chest. "What needed to be done," she answered simply. Rachel sprang from her seat and stepped towards her, fists trembling and a murderous look in her dark eyes. Santana stood her ground, completely unperturbed. Quinn held her breath. "I have your dads' numbers, those are the only contacts you need," said Santana. The brunette instantly deflated. "Do you want me to call them?" she asked sweetly. It wasn't a threat, not really. But Santana was pleased with the effect. Rachel was visibly calmer now. "We're not going to let you use again, Rachel. Not without a fight," said Santana. "And make no mistake, I will wipe the floor with your junkie, Israeli-looking ass."

Rachel stepped quietly away, too caught up with thoughts of her fathers. She slumped, defeated, onto the couch. Quinn breathed again.

"S, that was," she left the sentence unfinished, not sure exactly what that was.

"You can't be gentle with her all the time Q. But judging from the way you look at her, I guess you can't be anything else," she smiled. Quinn coloured at the observation. "So this is how we'll play it. Good cop," she said gesturing to Quinn, "Bad cop," she pointed to herself, grinning. "We'll help your girl."

"How did you know that would work?" asked Quinn, nodding to the counter and the scene that had just played out.

"I didn't," admitted Santana with a shrug. "But I had to do something. She has to know it isn't an option." Quinn chewed on her lower lip and stared at Rachel who was sitting on the couch. "Do her dads even know where she is, or what's been going on?" asked Santana.

Quinn shook her head; it wasn't something she had even thought about until Santana had mentioned it.

"No," came the broken voice from the couch. Quinn and Santana moved towards Rachel, Quinn sitting on the far end of the couch from her, Santana sitting on the easy chair facing them. "I call them periodically. They think it's because I want to enjoy my independence, but they always ask if they can visit. Like they used to when I was studying. This," she finally choked on the tears that were threatening release, "This will break their hearts," she sobbed.

"Isn't that reason enough to stop?" asked Santana. "This isn't the life you want, is it?"

Anger flashed across Rachel's face again. "It's not that easy," she answered venomously.

"No one ever said it would be. But you have to _want_ this, Rachel," stated the Latina. "You have to _want_ to get clean. It doesn't work otherwise." Rachel lifted fiery eyes to Santana, "And who died and made _you_ the expert?" she sneered coldly.

"My cousin, Rafael," she answered without pause. "He overdosed on the shit, died alone in a gutter." Rachel felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, all the air whooshed out of her. "Let me know if you want to do the same so I don't have to waste my time," said Santana, "So you can stop wasting Quinn's time," she added, looking at the surprised blond.

"S," scrambled Quinn, coming towards her and wrapping her arms around her. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"Don't sweat it, Q. But you should know, Rachel, that's where this leads."

All three were silent then. No one knew what to say next. It was Santana who broke the silence. "Can we order a pizza or something, I'm starving," she said. The comment seemed to shatter the tension that had built around them, and Quinn rose from her seat. "That's the best idea I've heard all day," she said with a smile.

After they ate, Santana sent Quinn to bed. The blond, ever defiant, had insisted she was fine. "You look like shit, Q. Go to sleep, or I will put you to sleep," Santana had threatened. She could see that Quinn was tempted but kept an anxious gaze on Rachel. "I will look after Needles," she assured her, "Just go and take a nap." Quinn shyly kissed the top of Rachel's head before slowly turning to leave. "Q!" growled Santana. And then the blond had hurried down the hallway, leaving Santana and Rachel in the living room.

"You're going to drag her down with you," said Santana as she looked at Rachel. The brunette glared at her, brown eyes half anguish and half contempt. "I don't know what it is," she continued, ignoring the glare. "Maybe Quinn misses her kid and wants to take care of something, maybe she wants to save you. All I know is that she looks at you the same way I look at Brittany." Rachel's expression turned puzzled. "Like she would die before she let any harm come to you," she explained.

"I don't want to hurt Quinn, I love her," started Rachel.

"You can't love anyone," interrupted the Latina. "Not until you're willing and able to put them before the drugs." Rachel stiffened at the reality. "Rafael couldn't. He turned his back on his friends, his family, everything that mattered," said Santana. "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. Not even Quinn can make you stop, Rachel. But that's not going to stop her from trying. Do you know she's bailing on work so she can stay with you? Big risk considering she's about to make partner at her law firm."

Rachel stared guiltily at her hands in her lap and listened to Santana. "I fucked up when I left Quinn to deal with all the baby stuff alone. I thought she'd be fine, that the uniform she wore made her invincible, but I was wrong." She laughed lightly. "I wanted to be her you know, I thought if I could take her spot I would be strong just like her. But I realised it wasn't the stupid Cheerio's uniform; it was all Quinn. And she's come too far for you to come along and fuck everything up for her," warned Santana heatedly. Rachel only nodded, still unable to meet Santana's gaze. "So if you want to love her, you have to make that decision, Rachel."

"I understand," answered Rachel softly.

"Oh, and if you _do_ hurt her," added Santana, "I will _end _you. You will wish you _had_ overdosed by the time I'm through with you." The warning came laced with acid, and Rachel couldn't help but shudder at the intensity of Santana's words. She fleetingly thought how nice it must be to have friends who were that protective of you. But then her heart grew heavy as she realised that Santana was protecting Quinn from her. After some silent reflection Rachel looked at Santana.

"Do you think I could talk to my dads?" she asked.

Santana nodded approvingly. "That sounds like a good idea."

Quinn smiled when she felt a warm arm snake around her waist. Rachel climbed into the bed and snuggled in closer to her, breathing in her scent and revelling in the feel of soft skin under her fingertips. Quinn placed her hand over Rachel's and squeezed it gently. "Hey," she sighed, still lazy with sleep.

"Hey," Rachel replied softly.  
"Santana's still alive, right?" she asked, half joking.

"Mm-hmm," she replied, nuzzling into Quinn's neck. "She's talking to Brittany so she made me leave, because Brittany wanted to talk to me and Santana got a little pouty."

"You don't mind that she's here do you? I just need–," the sentence went unfinished as Rachel kissed the skin on her neck.

"This isn't easy for you, I wasn't really thinking about that before," said Rachel, as she peppered her neck with kisses. Her hand caressed her stomach slowly and Quinn fought to keep her concentration on the voice in her ear instead of the feathery touches and kisses assaulting her skin. "But right now, all I'm thinking about is you." She sucked Quinn's neck, eliciting a soft moan from the blond. She smiled into the wet skin, nipping it gently and earning another moan. Her hand trailed up under the t-shirt to stroke Quinn's breast, raking her nails over the nipple she found there. Quinn trembled slightly at the touch.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"Making up for the trouble," she answered. Sucking and biting Quinn's shoulder while she teased her nipple into a firm peak. Quinn couldn't help but writhe next to her. "You've been so good to me Quinn. I want to say thank you," she whispered into her ear, then she dipped lower to suck on her earlobe and Quinn couldn't concentrate anymore. She rolled over to face Rachel, bringing her lips to the brunette's in a passionate kiss. Rachel kissed her back eagerly, running her tongue along the seam of her lips until Quinn opened them and allowed her entry. She massaged her tongue with hers, electricity igniting along her skin as Quinn moaned into the kiss. Rachel shifted her head to kiss along Quinn's jaw line and down her throat, while she tangled her hands in the thick, dark locks. She rested her face in the hollow just below her throat and sighed with satisfaction.

"Kissing you, touching you, breathing you… it's all so amazing," gasped Rachel. "And I can't promise that I'll always be able to put you first, at least for now, but right now all I want is you. Right now, I want you to be my heroin." Quinn nodded and licked her lips. She didn't understand all of what Rachel meant; her heated body was overriding her head at the moment. She wanted Rachel.

When the brunette flipped her onto her back and started kissing her, she no longer cared what her mind was saying. Rachel lifted the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, throwing it onto the floor. When Quinn reached up to do the same with hers Rachel grasped her delicate wrists and looking into her eyes, shook her head.

"Not now, I just want to take care of _you_. Okay?" Quinn nodded, taken aback by the sadness in Rachel's voice. But then Rachel bent down to kiss her forehead, her eyes, her nose and then her lips; and she knew that the brunette simply needed time. Their lips crashed against each other hungrily, and Rachel's hands were once again working their magic on her skin. She straddled the blond and sucked and licked the soft skin of her neck while Quinn panted with anticipation. Then Rachel whispered into her ear, "Moan for me," and she moved lower, taking a nipple into her mouth and running her tongue against it.

"Oh God, Rachel," moaned Quinn. Tangling her hands in her hair while the brunette visited pleasure first on one breast, then the other. She tugged gently on the nipple in her mouth, and ran a hand down Quinn's stomach; past her navel and under the band of the shorts she wore. She teased her through the cotton of her panties, feeling the accumulated wetness beneath the fabric. Rachel moaned at her arousal and Quinn's breath hitched at the touch of her hand. Rachel rubbed her thumb against her and smiled as Quinn moaned her name and tried to wiggle out of the rest of her clothes. Rachel giggled at her enthusiasm and dismounted her long enough for her to shed the remainder of her garments. Settling herself a little lower on the pale body beneath her, Rachel dipped a finger into Quinn's saturated folds. Quinn moaned breathlessly, arching her back at the first touch.

"You're so wet," breathed Rachel, feeling the silky wetness coat her fingers.

"Rachel don't tease me," groaned Quinn, trying to raise her hips into her touch. "Please," she moaned. Then the brunette was sliding inside of her, feeling her tight, warmth around two fingers. Rachel slid out slowly, teasing her a little more, before sliding back in again. Quinn cried out with pleasure and Rachel pumped her fingers a little faster before returning her lips to Quinn's soft breasts.

"You feel so good," whispered Rachel, as she switched between her breast and her mouth. Quinn panted and bucked, her skin tingling as Rachel elicited soft cries from her lips. Rachel slid further down the beautiful body stretched beneath her, spreading Quinn's leg she bent down to taste her.

"Oh God, oh God," cried Quinn, moving her hands to rest on Rachel's head as she started licking and sucking the softness between her legs. Rachel moaned into her, thrusting her tongue inside of her, unable to get enough of Quinn's pleasure.

"Rachel, oh yes, right there," moaned Quinn. Rachel swirled her tongue and nibbled gently on her lips, sucking one minute and kissing the next. Her chin was coated in her juice as she buried her face deeper, trying to taste every inch of Quinn. She slid her fingers inside once more, curling them into her spot on each thrust while she worked her mouth and tongue over Quinn's clit. The blond was delirious with pleasure, moaning her name louder and louder as she approached her climax. Then she was shuddering and screaming her release, and Rachel continued to stroke her, kissing her gently as she rode each wave of pleasure. Quinn lay panting and waiting for the feeling to return to her limbs. Rachel sat up and licked her fingers clean before capturing Quinn's mouth in a tender kiss, allowing the beauty to taste herself on her tongue. Quinn's mouth formed a sated smile and she pulled the brunette into her body and held her, her arms and legs still feeling jelly-like.

"That was beautiful," whispered Rachel. "I'd forgotten that it could be beautiful." Quinn sighed and stroked the hair out of Rachel's face.

"I hope you'll let me show you next time," Quinn whispered back. Rachel nodded and clung to her body. They remained in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of perfection.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello again! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and added the story to favourites and alerts! Please continue to review, it really does help. I get quite stuck otherwise. So, here's chapter 5. I will get chapter 6 up in a couple of days I hope. Still working on a few kinks there. Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee or the characters. Plot is mine though. And the songs featured belong to their prospective artists: "I lie awake" by Quietdrive and "Ever the same" by Rob Thomas.

* * *

"I want you to come back with me."

The plea was so soft that Rachel wasn't sure if Quinn had actually said it. But when she gazed up into the warm, hazel eyes piercing her, she knew she hadn't dreamt it. Quinn had her nestled into her still naked chest and was caressing her arm affectionately through the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

"I talked to my dads," said Rachel nervously.

She felt Quinn give her a gentle squeeze before she said, "That's great. Did you tell them?" She asked the question delicately; unsure of how Rachel would react.

"Not exactly," she said tentatively. "I just told them that I needed to come home."

Quinn swallowed the lump in her throat. Of course she would want to go home. She felt so stupid for thinking Rachel would accept her invitation. _What did you think, that the two of you would run off into the sunset together? _She berated herself internally. She tried to say something supportive but there were tears pricking her eyes and her throat grew tight. She settled for giving the brunette another squeeze, hoping her moment of idiocy would pass without any further comment. She heard Rachel take a breath to say something and removed her arm abruptly from around her. "I should go take a shower. Santana's probably bored and crabby," she said sitting up to leave. Rachel stared after the blond blur who couldn't seem to get away fast enough.

Rachel felt awful for hurting Quinn's feelings. She wanted to be with her, she knew their time together hadn't been a mistake. But Quinn had a really good life. She was successful, beautiful, and had a bright future ahead of her. Rachel felt broken and disgusting. She couldn't imagine Quinn wanting to touch her, or be with her. She walked towards the bathroom door where she heard the sound of rushing water mixing with Quinn's voice. She was singing. Rachel paused to listen.

"_I lie awake because I'm scared_

_I'm not as fake as you once heard_

_But we'll lie down now making sure we_

_Put these words between us._

_Can you hear us falling?_

_We're falling faster_

_It's hard to remember_

_Where we were at a year before_

_I thought we were ready_

_I thought we were steady_

'_Til the emotion_

_Hit the floor_

_Fills my heart_

_Burns me up…"_

Rachel couldn't listen to the pain in Quinn's voice. She went back to her room and lay on the bed, covering her face with her arms.

Quinn padded into the kitchen, refreshed after her nap and her shower. Santana sat on the couch watching television but turned it off at Quinn's greeting. She turned around to face Quinn. "Thank God this house is huge," exclaimed Santana. "There is _no way_ I ever want to hear you two going at it like rabbits in heat, _ever _again." Quinn blushed with embarrassment. At the time she hadn't noticed how loud she was being.

_Don't worry, it's not going to happen again_, thought Quinn miserably. "Sorry S," she said guiltily to the woman who had come all this way to help her.

"It's okay, Q," she answered smiling. "But you owe B a phone call. I came to get you, but you were otherwise engaged," the Latina all but giggled.

Quinn raised her eyebrow, "Oh, like I've never been subjected to you and Brittany in the throes?" she accused.

"Relax. Man, I thought the sex would've at least made you less uptight," she joked.

Quinn sighed. "Sorry, S. I just have a lot on my mind."

Santana walked over to the breakfast bar where Quinn stood sipping a glass of orange juice. "She told you she talked to her dads about going home?"

Quinn set the glass down and nodded. "Not before I made an ass out of myself," she said. Santana gave her a questioning look. "I asked her to come back to LA with me," she explained.

"Oh," said Santana. "I didn't think you'd actually–" but she let her sentence drop when she saw the hurt in Quinn's eyes.

"Apparently I'm the only idiot who thought it would be a good idea," answered Quinn in frustration.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Q. You put yourself out there and let her know that you're there for her. Nothing wrong with that," consoled the Latina. Quinn chewed on the corner of her lip and stared at her glass.

_It's just like me and Puck all over again_, she thought angrily. Santana bent her head to catch Quinn's gaze.

"Where did you go just then?" she asked when Quinn returned her gaze and gave her the ghost of a smile. "I'm here for you just as much as I'm here for Rachel," said Santana. "Talk to me," she urged. Santana didn't know what Quinn was thinking or feeling, but she had the benefit of experience in both drug users and feelings for the fairer sex. And Santana was still adamant about making up for the lack of friendship she had displayed during Quinn's time as a pregnant teen. This time she would be there to help.

Quinn looked into Santana's dark eyes. They were full of concern and a genuine desire to help. "I don't know what to say," she started slowly. "I feel a little foolish I guess. Part of me feels like this is just like me and Puck," she said, forcing the words out before she had a chance to swallow her feelings. "Did she just use me? I mean I don't really feel that way. But," she paused, taking a breath. "I feel so awful for saying this but, what about me?"

Santana only nodded her head, knowing that the blond wasn't quite finished yet.

"And I guess on top of that I'm also confused about where all these feelings came from. I don't feel like it's a bad thing. Spending time with Rachel, being with her, kissing her, and oh God the sex," she exclaimed, going off on a tangent.

"Easy tiger," said Santana, but she had a grin on her face, unable to hide her amusement. "Some people are just gay," she said shrugging her shoulders. "Sometimes there is no slow build up of emotions and blinding moment of realization. Sometimes all it takes is a moment, and you just _feel_," she continued.

Quinn nodded. "I feel _so much_ for her," confessed Quinn desperately. "It's a little scary when I think about it. I had already planned our life together. And it hurt when she didn't accept my offer. It still hurts, knowing that I'm going to lose her," she said, her voice breaking from the threat of tears.

Quinn saw Santana's look of surprise before she felt Rachel's arms around her waist. "Oh shit," said Quinn softly, unable to hide her shock and embarrassment.

"I'm going to leave you two to talk," said Santana, leaving the kitchen and disappearing into a guest room.

Rachel and Quinn stood motionless, the brunette still pressed tightly against the taller blond's back. "So, how much of that did you hear?" Quinn asked nervously.

"All of it," answered Rachel softly. "I'm sorry. I know you hate eavesdroppers," she said, remembering how Quinn had caught her doing it once in high school. Quinn felt Rachel move her hands to her hips and try and swivel her around to face her. Rachel gazed into her tear-filled hazel eyes.

"I wasn't using you. I'm not Puck," breathed the brunette. She didn't know why that particular comparison had stung but it did.

"I know," said Quinn. "I just got a little ahead of myself," she added, looking down at the floor.

"I'm not ready Quinn," admitted the brunette sadly. "I wish I was!" she added with frustration. "The thought of being with you makes me elated. And being with you earlier," she shook her head like she still didn't believe it had happened. "Well, there really aren't any words for that," she said. Quinn blushed at the comment. "But right now I'm too broken, too worthless and too messed up to be in a relationship. And you deserve the very best, Quinn. I'm not my best right now."

She took a deep breath to settle herself after divulging her feelings.

"I want to love you. But as Santana so bluntly explained to me, I can't do that until I put my addiction behind me, behind everything else. You have a great life, and I fear that me trying to be a part of that life, as I am now, will only end in me tainting what you've worked so hard for."

"Don't I get a say? It is my 'great life' after all," argued Quinn. Rachel smiled at her defiance. She had always admired her strong will.

"No you don't," she answered.

"I want you to be a part of my life, Rachel," said Quinn, ignoring the brunette's answer. "I can't just let you go like that," she said. "I don't want to lose you." More tears escaped down Quinn's cheeks and Rachel wiped them away with her thumbs.

"So this is what it looks like when angels weep," she said softly.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Who said I'm an angel?" retorted Quinn.

"You're my angel," she whispered, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on Quinn's lips.

Quinn sighed with the weight of the emotions the slight brunette was able to provoke from her. "You can't say that, and kiss me like that and expect me to just let you go," she exclaimed. Rachel hung her head knowing that Quinn had a point.  
"You're right," she said sadly.

"I think I love you," blurted Quinn.

Rachel recoiled from the admission in surprise. "You shouldn't," she said.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's how it works," replied Quinn sarcastically.

Rachel laughed joyously. It was a genuine laugh that touched her eyes. It was so unlike the bitter laugh Quinn had come to hear so often. Rachel clamped a hand over her mouth as not to offend the blond before her, but Quinn pulled the hand away and smiled at her.

"I haven't heard you laugh like that in so long," she said.

Rachel smiled at her. "I didn't really mean to laugh at you," she said shyly. "But you're just so cute when you're being petulant."

"Well then you're going to love this," said Quinn teasingly. "If you're going back to Lima, I'm going too," she stated, stomping her foot for added effect.

Rachel shook her head, still smiling. "You're not a Lima Loser," she stated, "I won't let you become one for my sake."

"You're not a Lima Loser either," Quinn said defensively.

Rachel turned to walk away, not sure that there was anything more to say.

"Rachel, don't," said Quinn, reaching out to grab a tanned hand. Rachel stopped at the warm contact but couldn't bring herself to face Quinn. She heard the blond sigh in exasperation. "I don't know how to back down," she said slowly. "But, you need time. I can give you that. I think," she said hesitantly. "I know you can get clean. I want you to get better." She paused and pulled Rachel around to face her. Then she lifted her chin with two fingers so their eyes met. "But I also want you to come back to me."

Unbeknownst to the two women, Santana had crept silently into the living room and opened Quinn's laptop. She had selected a song and clicked play, allowing soft music to fill the room, before dashing back out again. At the sudden sound of lyrics the two looked around for Santana. "S?" growled Quinn.

"Brittany told me to do it. She said you two shouldn't be fighting," called Santana from the safety of the hallway. Her voice was a mixture of laughter and embarrassment at obeying her girlfriend's wishes.

As the song played Rachel gazed at Quinn. They listened to the song, pausing the intense conversation for the moment.

"_Just let me hold you while you're falling apart._

_Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down._

_Fall on me,_

_Tell me everything you want me to be._

_Forever with you,_

_Forever in me,_

_Ever the same."_

Rachel stepped closer to Quinn. "Dance with me?" she asked. Quinn smiled and took her lovingly into her arms. She held the fragile brunette tightly, almost vowing to herself to never let go. Rachel closed her eyes and moulded her shape to the blond in her arms. She focused on this moment, ignoring the thoughts of their pending separation. Quinn rested her head on top of Rachel's and listened to the lyrics of the song while they danced.

"_Now it's cold and we're scared,_

_And we've both been shaken._

_Yeah look at us man,_

_This doesn't need to be the end."_

She dropped a kiss on Rachel's head before twirling the shorter girl around. Rachel laughed at the action but loved how special it made her feel. "Smooth," she said, grinning at Quinn before settling back into the safety of toned arms.

"I try," smiled Quinn.

"_You may need me there_

_To carry all your weight._

_But you're no burden I assure._

_You tide me over_

_With a warmth I'll not forget._

_But I can only give you love."_

When the song ended Quinn pressed her lips against Rachel's. They each made an unspoken promise.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Well here's a slightly longer chapter to make up for the previous chapter's length. I hope you enjoy. PLEASE REVIEW! It's so important! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters, and all those who have set up alerts and added this story to favourites. It really makes my day knowing that people are enjoying this story.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee or the characters. Just borrowed them for some intense angst! Only the plot is mine.

* * *

Quinn left Rachel sleeping in the bed. She had woken up feeling uncharacteristically anxious. The day was soon approaching when she would have to leave Rachel and go back to LA.

"Oh, you're up," said Santana, surprised. "Are you okay, Q?" she asked. Quinn turned her head to look at her. Santana was dressed in short shorts and a crop top. She had bent down to fasten the laces on her running shoes but peered back up at Quinn when she received no answer. Quinn was nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.

"Come on Tubbers, let's go for a run," said Santana suddenly. She knew the old insult would get a rise out of the blond, and anger was more productive than despair.

Quinn narrowed her eyes at the insult. "I'm in just as great shape as you are, S," she said coolly.

Santana rose and showed off her abs, a playful smirk on her lips. "Then you won't have any trouble keeping up, " she said.

"I will run circles around you, Lopez," she replied, a smirk now evident on her lips too. It was a good thing she always brought her running gear with her on business trips. Suddenly Quinn's face fell. "What about Rachel?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm sure the midget will be fine for an hour. We can just lock her in," she grinned. Quinn didn't seem convinced. "She's leaving soon Q. You'll have to let go eventually."

Quinn stalked off to get changed. She needed to run. She needed to think.

They started off at a steady pace, testing themselves and each other. Naturally, it was the brazen Latina who pushed first, surging forward and quickening the pace. Quinn smiled hungrily and met her stride for stride, using her slightly longer legs to her advantage. Santana grinned impishly and increased her speed again, flipping her hair back to taunt her blond companion. _Too easy_, thought Quinn. And this time instead of simply matching Santana's pace she surged past her.

"Oh it's _on_ Fabray," called Santana, breaking into a sprint. Quinn watched the caramel blur overtake her and she kicked into a higher gear. They battled for dominance, racing against each other, pushing each other to go harder. Quinn relished the thudding of her feet on the pavement, the burning in her lungs and in her legs, and the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears. "You getting soft in your old age, Fabray?" teased Santana, even though they were both neck-in-neck.

"I think I have a little more," she replied with an arch of her eyebrow. Then she took off, seemingly flying in front of the dark haired beauty. Santana could only stare with admiration at her elegant power. She pushed herself a little more too, trying catch up with the blond in the lead.

Quinn stood facing the ocean at the end of the street. She gulped in air hungrily, sweaty, blond locks plastered to the sides of her face now glowing from exertion. Santana stood at her side, using the barrier between the street and the beach to stretch her legs. She knew she'd be paying for this later, but she didn't care. Neither woman knew how far or how long they had run. All they knew was that it had felt good. "Guess you still got it, Captain," said Santana.

Quinn wrapped an arm around Santana's sweaty shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. "I told you," she grinned. "Thanks San, I really needed that," she added gratefully.

Santana shrugged, "I know. Now talk. You've had a chance to think, so what's up?"

Quinn never stoped being surprised at how well Santana knew her. She smiled at her lieutenant. Her chest heaved while she tried to regain her breath, and she saw a small kiosk down the beach and pointed to it. "Let's hydrate." Santana nodded and followed her down.

They each grabbed a bottle of water and started walking down the beach. The morning sun danced along the water and dried the sweat off both of their bodies. Quinn swallowed the water desperately, grateful for the cooling liquid quenching her thirst. "Who would've thought I'd fall for Berry," she said suddenly, replacing the cap on her bottle.

"I didn't," said Santana honestly. "But it's weird that it doesn't seem out of place, seeing you two together." She shook her head and smirked, "It _should_ feel like something out of the Twilight Zone, but it doesn't." Quinn smiled in agreement. "But there's still something bugging you," pressed Santana.

Quinn watched the waves break onto the shore and tried to organize her thoughts. "Leaving her feels wrong," she admitted, her gaze still far away on the horizon.

"It's not like we're just going to abandon her, Q," Santana assured her. Quinn smiled at the verbal commitment Santana had just given her. "You have your own life too, Q. You just have to realize that Rachel isn't quite where she needs to be yet. But when she is, she will be yours. I don't doubt that." Quinn took in Santana's words. She felt more and more grateful for her friend's presence in this situation. "She needs her dads too. You can't do it all," she added.

"Do you think she'll tell them?" asked Quinn.

"If she doesn't, I will," she stated flatly. "It's the secrets that hurt," she said, and Quinn could tell that Santana was thinking of the cousin she had lost. "If she's going to do this, everything has to be in the open. Then her dads have a better chance at getting through to her." Quinn nodded, her chest swelling with pride for the woman at her side. Santana noticed the look on Quinn's face.

"What?" she said, quirking an eyebrow.

"You're kind of amazing," she answered.

"No shit," she replied, weaving her head through the air with attitude.

"We should probably get back," said Quinn. "You think you can make it?" she teased.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you this time," she said, turning around to make her way back up the beach.

Quinn and Santana spilled into the house laughing. "Clearly I won," said Quinn.

"In your dreams maybe," Santana retorted. They made their way further into the house and were greeted by the smell of breakfast.

"Excellent timing," said Rachel from the kitchen, setting plates on the breakfast bar.

"I'm starving!" exclaimed Santana, hurriedly taking a seat.

"Morning Rachel," Quinn greeted the brunette with a warm smile. Rachel raced towards her and hugged her. The embrace was very brief.

"You're sweaty," she shrieked, her face scrunching in disgust. Santana grinned at the exchange and then dove into the plate of food in front of her.

"San and I went for a run," explained Quinn.

"I know. I got your note. Although it was a bit unnecessary for you to lock me in," she said in an annoyed tone.

"Couldn't have you running away now could I?" teased Quinn. "How else would we have gotten breakfast?"

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest but still managed to smile at the blond. She couldn't really be annoyed with her, especially when she looked so hot. Even though Quinn was sweaty, she had a glow about her. "Sit. Eat."

"This is actually really good," said Santana.

"God, S, do you let your girls eat like that?" jibed Quinn, staring with mock disgust at Santana's already half-finished plate.

"Hell no," she answered. "They're on a strict diet." Then laughing she added, "Sometimes I bring a cheeseburger to practice and just waft the scent through the air to taunt them." Quinn shook her head but laughed all the same.

"Not even Coach Sylvester was that cruel, S," she said.

Santana shrugged, "Gets the job done."

Rachel imagined a tracksuit clad Santana walking down rows of young cheerleaders, toting a giant cheeseburger. She would wave the atrocity in front of their faces while they strained to concentrate on the drills they were running. "You don't want this cheeseburger ladies, you _want_ to do thirty more crunches!" Santana would yell through her bullhorn.

Rachel was roused from her imaginings when Quinn nudged her and asked if she was eating anything. She nodded and took a seat next to her.

"God, Berry! You're practically drooling," said Santana smiling playfully. "Quinn, go have a shower and put some clothes on before she starts dry humping you like a Chihuahua," she instructed. Rachel went several shades of pink at Santana's bluntness. It was true; she couldn't pull her eyes away from Quinn's beautifully sculpted body. Her toned stomach left bare by the crop top she was wearing, her long legs and strong thighs left exposed by her shorts. Quinn grinned, pleased with Rachel's appreciation of her body. "Thanks a lot S, I was enjoying the lust-filled stares before you ruined her concentration," snapped Quinn.

"Get a room," barked Santana, "There are plenty." Her expression turned thoughtful then. "What are you doing about your apartment by the way?" she asked Rachel suddenly. Rachel's face had finally returned to its natural hue.

"I don't know to be honest. I haven't actually thought about it," she answered; panic slowly rising in her voice.

"You can't go back there obviously," said Santana.

"I did have one idea," said Quinn. "I was going to ask Noah if he would mind clearing it out."

Santana nodded, thinking it over. Rachel looked shocked at the suggestion.

"You mean Noah Puckerman?" she asked, incredulity rising with the pitch of her voice.

"He certainly could get the job done," replied Santana.

"I'll give him a call," said Quinn.

"Wait!" shrieked Rachel, standing up in an effort to be heard.

"It's okay Rachel, he won't mind," urged Quinn, taking her hand. "He's a different man now." She tugged gently on her hand to get Rachel to sit down again. She started to speak fondly of Noah; the man she would always have a bond with because of the daughter they had given up in their youth.

"Noah joined the army after high school. I think he wanted to get out of Lima mostly, but he also thought he had something to prove. His mother hated the idea of course," Quinn smiled remembering the overbearing woman. "So he trained to be a machinist. He's great at it, I swear he can fix just about anything." Rachel smiled hearing Quinn's words. She was happy that Noah had found something he enjoyed doing, that wasn't a form of bullying. "Anyway, during his tour he was in a transport heading into the field to help out, repairing a truck or something," Quinn's voice waivered slightly, remembering how worried she had been about him when she had first heard of the incident. "They took fire and there was a car bomb. His chest was injured by shrapnel from the blast." Rachel gasped reflexively. "They were able to save him, and he's doing really well now, but the doctors said he couldn't return to active duty because of the damage done to his heart." She shook her head, smiling warmly at the image of Noah in her head. "He always jokes about how chicks dig scars. He owns an automotive repair shop in Lima now. He called it 'The Puck Stop'."

Rachel laughed, allowing the tension to leave her body.

"We keep in touch still. I know he wouldn't mind helping you out."

Rachel nodded her head. "Okay Quinn," she said. Noah lived in Lima and would have seen her at some point anyway. She thought it would be nice to have at least one friend there.

"He'll probably want to see you when you get there anyway," said Quinn, echoing Rachel's own thoughts. Santana huffed and rose from the chair she had been occupying. "Well, this is boring. I'm going to take a shower while you make the call, Q," she said, before leaving the room.

Quinn gave Rachel the briefest of kisses. "Everything will be okay," she said in a reassuring tone. "I'll take care of it." Rachel kissed her tenderly and pulled back to give her a smile. "Thank you," she said.

Quinn called Noah, and Rachel spoke to him for a few minutes. She was surprised at how nice it was to hear his voice. She left Quinn to co-ordinate the situation while she did the dishes. She had just dried the last plate when she felt two arms wrap around her waist. She leaned back against Quinn who nuzzled into her neck.

"Don't take this the wrong way but you _need_ to have a shower," said Rachel, wrinkling her nose.

"Right, sorry," replied Quinn.

Rachel turned to face her, planting a kiss on the soft lips above hers. "Once you have re-established a reasonable standard of hygiene, you'll hear no further objections from me," she smiled.

Quinn felt dazzled by her gaze and almost skipped to the bathroom.

Rachel made sure the kitchen was spotless and then turned to stare out of the window. Santana found the brunette lost in thought.

"You seem a little better," she hedged, startling Rachel from her thoughts.

"Yes. The medication has really helped, and it's nice," she paused, unsure of how to talk to the previously cold cheerleader. Santana looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "It's nice to not be alone," admitted Rachel. Santana witnessed the petite frame of the brunette tense and knew she was preparing for an insult to follow her admission.

"Well you're not. And you won't be, even in Lima," said Santana.

"Quinn doesn't want to leave, I know," started Rachel.

"Let me worry about Q," she interrupted.

"It'll be hard saying goodbye to her. I don't think I even want to face that, and then telling my dads and being back there by myself," Rachel started rambling at full speed. Santana smiled for a brief moment, seeing a small piece of the old Rachel Berry falling back into place. It did not go unnoticed by Rachel.

"Like I said, you won't be alone. I'll put Quinn on a plane to LA and then I'm going back to Lima with you," she paused, noting that Rachel was studying her carefully. "To make sure you tell your dads the whole story, and get you settled in," she added, as if explaining her reasoning.

Rachel smiled at Santana.

"Don't get all Suzy Pepper on me, Berry. I'm not beyond kicking your junkie ass." She turned to leave just as Rachel softly said, "Thank you, Santana."

"You're welcome," she whispered back without turning around. Rachel heard the barely audible remark, and for the first time, truly appreciated Santana Lopez.

Quinn returned to the bedroom and started pulling on her underwear. She turned around when the door opened and closed and found Rachel leaning against it. "Satisfied?" she asked. Rachel made to sniff the air and Quinn glared at her, but continued to dress herself. She could feel Rachel's eyes on her still and tried to stop the smug grin spreading across her face. She heard Rachel move to sit on the bed and followed soon after.

"Santana really is a decent human being," said Rachel, struggling momentarily for an accurate description.

"Don't let her hear you say that, she'll probably break your nose," warned Quinn. Rachel covered her nose protectively. Quinn rolled her eyes and moved the hand away from her face. "I was only kidding," she said. She moved closer to the brunette and kissed her softly on the lips. Rachel smiled against her mouth and Quinn pulled away to see her face.

"It's like you want me to ravage you like some hormone-crazed, teenage boy, Quinn," laughed Rachel.

"Well, I heard once that girls want sex just as much as guys do," Quinn said, an amused grin playing on her lips. "And besides, you said no more objections," she added, moving her lips to kiss a trail down Rachel's neck.

"Is it just about the sex?" asked Rachel sadly, afraid to hear the answer. Quinn flinched at the question, realizing how insensitive she may have appeared in that moment. She pulled back from the soft, tanned skin of Rachel's neck so that Rachel could see how sincere she was when she answered.

"No Rachel, it's not about sex," said Quinn with conviction. She looked deep into Rachel's eyes, hoping to make the connection she felt with her more tangible. Rachel gave her a nervous smile. "You don't believe me?" she questioned.

"No, it's not that," Rachel said, flustered by the look in Quinn's eyes. She continued to hold Rachel's gaze, trying to coax a coherent explanation from her. Rachel slid down the bed to lie on her back. Quinn followed her, lying on her side so she could look at the brunette. "It's all I am," she said, "Sex." She paused to collect her emotions. "I just wonder why you look at me like that, when that's all I am," she shrugged.

Quinn swallowed a low growl. She didn't know how to make Rachel understand that there was so much more to her than sex. She knew it would be a long road back to believing that she wasn't a whore.

"I wish you could ready my mind," sighed Quinn.

Rachel's eyes danced with amusement. "What?" she said, fighting the urge to giggle.

Quinn pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked down at the small brunette next to her. "So you would know how I really feel about you, how I see you," said Quinn. Rachel blushed slightly when she saw the adoration in Quinn's eyes.

"Tell me," she whispered.

Quinn gave her a devilish grin, "I could probably show you better than I could tell you." Rachel rolled her eyes and shoved her lightly. "But, I'll try." She moved a few strands of Rachel's dark hair out of her face. "You're so beautiful. You kind of radiate this intense light. And when you sing, and you will sing again," she added with authority, "You're so mesmerizing. Awe-inspiring." Quinn smiled knowing that Rachel liked big words. She thought about what she wanted to say next, and swallowed the lump that had risen to her throat. Rachel took her hand and entwined their fingers together. Quinn smiled at the contact.

"The first time I heard you say that you loved me was so surreal," she said softly. "I wasn't even sure if you really meant it, or if you were just that far gone on your high." Confusion fluttered across Rachel's face. "I'm not surprised that you don't remember," said Quinn, answering the question in Rachel's wide eyes. "It was the day I took you from your apartment."

"The day you _rescued_ me," corrected Rachel.

"I guess you could say that," smiled Quinn. "You had just propositioned me for sex, at a discounted rate," she explained. Rachel looked mortified but then her eyes turned sad at the mention of her darker days. "I don't know why, but you admitting that you loved me felt right somehow. I never knew you had. But it," she swallowed nervously, "It changed something in me. I thought that if I had only seen you sooner, seen into you as I do now, then maybe none of this would've happened."

"Oh, baby," whispered Rachel, "None of this is your fault. I need to take responsibility for all of this. You've done nothing wrong," Rachel said fervently. Quinn smiled at the term of endearment.

"I want to make it up to you. I wish I could just take all this pain and sadness away. It's frustrating that I can't," replied Quinn. "But seeing you fight back and really try to fix your life, that's amazing. That's what I want you to focus on. Not what happened, but what you're doing to fix it," she said urgently.

Rachel looked a little lost and Quinn knew it was asking a lot of the damaged woman. She squeezed Rachel's hand gently to bring her back to this moment. "That's what I see. Someone who's strong and beautiful, and has love in their heart, someone who's unwilling to give up. And what's better than that?"

Quinn noticed tiny rivulets of tears flowing down Rachel's face. They weren't tears of sadness, but tears of gratitude.

I'm sorry," said Rachel.

Quinn shook her head. "I'm the one who made you cry, I should be apologizing," she said.

"No, not that. I'm sorry that that's the first time I told you I loved you. The first time should be magical," she sighed. "Not pathetic and after an offer of discounted sex," she laughed lightly through the tears. Quinn leaned into Rachel and kissed away the tears, then placed a soft kiss against her full mouth. The salty flavour played on their lips.

"We could always conveniently forget about that, and rewrite history a little," said Quinn with a smile.

"I'd like that," whispered Rachel. She put a hand behind Quinn's neck and brought her head down for a passionate kiss. The blond leaned into the embrace, returning the kiss with intensity. When they parted for breath Quinn stroked Rachel's cheek.

"We don't have to have sex, not until you want to," she said.

Rachel nodded. "Can we still make out? I really like making out with you," she replied.

"I'm so pleased to hear that," laughed Quinn. "And yes, we can still make out."

"What if I want to–" Quinn's fingertips resting against her lips silenced Rachel's words.

"How about we just say that for now _you_ make up the rules?"

Rachel beamed a megawatt smile at Quinn and nodded her assent. Quinn removed her fingers and brushed her lips against Rachel's before murmuring, "I hope you're not going to make me regret that."

Rachel just giggled.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: And here we go! Ok, so just a few points before you go ahead. First of all I AM NOT A DANCER. Couldn't tell you the first thing about dance to be honest with you. So when you reach that part of the fic, don't go all Dancer Nazi on me ok? I did my best and honestly, just wanted to get across the point that she was TRYING, and still had skill if not the confidence. I hope you understand. Secondly, I actually struggled to write Brittany's character. I don't feel that I did her justice really, but I hope that the rest of the fic is still up to standard. Anyway, thanks for your understanding! Enjoy. And please REVIEW. They get me through the bouts of block or when I don't feel like I know what I'm doing. Thanks to all the amazing people who have reviewed, your continued support is appreciated more than you know! Also the "xoxo" is my attempt at an increased "line break". Ok, done!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Glee. Just... borrowing the characters.

* * *

"Seriously, Q, you need to go," said Santana, still trying to avert her gaze from the enamoured couple. Quinn couldn't bear to let go of Rachel. Their arms were clasped tightly around each other while lips grazed lips and kisses were traded.

"There's always phone sex," she said impatiently. And with that she achieved her desired effect. Both women hastily disengaged themselves from one another, their cheeks flaming from the comment. Santana laughed lightly, "I hope you get over being embarrassed about sex soon. What are you? Twelve?"

"Goodbye, Santana," Quinn growled, but enveloped her in a warm hug. "Thank you for everything," she added.

"Yeah, yeah," Santana replied in a bored voice. "Now stop stalling and get your smitten ass on the damn plane."

Quinn looked at Rachel and pulled her into her arms once more. "I will call you as soon as I land," she said, nuzzling into her neck and breathing in her fragrance.

"I'll be waiting," replied Rachel softly, running her hands up and down Quinn's back.

"Are you sure –" Quinn's words were cut off by an announcement over the intercom system advising them of the final boarding call for the flight to LA.

"Go, I'll be fine," urged Rachel, kissing Quinn tenderly on the lips. Quinn pulled back and stroked her cheek affectionately before running towards the gate.

"Come on Pint-Size, time to go," said Santana, wrapping an arm around Rachel's shoulders and leading her to the exit.

xoxo

Rachel's homecoming had been a lot less dramatic than she had anticipated. Her fathers, Joshua and Michael, had welcomed her home with open arms. They showered Santana with gratitude, though she had insisted that all thanks be directed at Quinn.

When Rachel sat down on the couch to explain to her dads the reason for her return, she was surprised at how much they _didn't_ react. She put it down to shock, but still wanted to crawl under a rock and die. Santana had stayed by her side for support and told her fathers how well she was doing. She let Rachel do the talking, thinking it was best the story come from their daughter. When Rachel had finished, and the tears had dried, they all had dinner together. Rachel appreciated the semblance of routine normalcy in the house she had grown up in.

Santana had stayed for a couple of days after their arrival. Long enough to fill Rachel's dads in on all that she knew, and get Rachel in touch with the local branch of 'Narcotics Anonymous'. Rachel didn't want to join the regular meetings, but Santana insisted that she at least take into consideration what the group could offer her. It was an awkward experience, but Rachel wasn't able to persuade Santana that it was an unnecessary step. Begrudgingly, she had met with a friendly man from the group and discussed the benefits of attending regular meetings with N.A. The man had assured her that there wasn't any pressure, and sent her home with the N.A Handbook.

Quinn had been in regular contact with Rachel. She'd even bought Rachel a new cell phone. The box had been delivered to the Berry home, wrapped in gold star gift-wrap with an attached card. It read:

"_You know, for phone sex._

_Love, Quinn_

_P.S Don't worry about the bill, it's taken care of."_

Rachel had immediately called her to say thank you.

"You didn't _have_ to get me an iPhone," she scolded the blond on the other end of the line.

"Only the best for you, baby," replied Quinn. "Besides, it supports video calls," she added suggestively.

"Remind me again how you came to be the president of the Celibacy Club?" teased Rachel.

"Obviously, that was before you corrupted me," answered Quinn.

"I'm not going to bring up the fact that I wasn't the one who impregnated you at sixteen," she retorted.

"Hey, I was drunk," she said defensively.

"I don't think that does anything to improve your reputation, Quinn," laughed Rachel.

"At least I'll get to see you soon," she said. Rachel heard the sad twinge in Quinn's voice.

"It makes you sad?" she asked, puzzled by the turn in Quinn's mood.

"Yes, a little," she admitted. "But not because of you."

Rachel rolled onto her back on her bed. "What is it then?" she asked.

"Well, I usually go and visit Noah around this time," she said apprehensively. "For Beth's birthday," she explained.

"Oh," said Rachel, cursing her choice of words immediately, but unable to say much else.

"I know it's silly, but Noah and I sort of celebrate her birth, in a morbid kind of way. We just like to think of her, and be thankful for her, even though she isn't ours," said Quinn. Her voice sounded strained, and Rachel knew she was fighting back tears as she spoke.

"It's not silly, Quinn," Rachel said in an effort to quell the blond's distress. "I think it's a wonderful gesture. One that I'm sure she would be touched by."

"Yeah," laughed Quinn nervously.

"I can't wait to see you," sighed Rachel, sensing Quinn's need for the subject to be changed. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," smiled Quinn. "I miss having you in my arms, and kissing you, and–"

"Quinn Fabray, we are _not_ having phone sex on our first call," Rachel said firmly.

"Rachel, that's not what I meant," argued Quinn.

"Oh really?" challenged the brunette. "Tell me, what are you wearing right now?"

Quinn laughed nervously again, taking a moment to think. "You know, pyjamas," she lied.

"You're on your bed wearing nothing but panties, aren't you?" accused Rachel, raising her eyebrows.

"No," she replied reluctantly. "Tank top, no panties."

Rachel fell silent at Quinn's brief description. After a pause she said, "You said something about this phone having video capabilities?"

"And _you_ said we weren't going to have phone sex on our first call."

Rachel could hear the laughter in Quinn's voice and pictured the smug grin she was probably wearing. It was sexy.

"I'm not prepared for it yet. I haven't had a chance to research the methods, and I don't know what you'd like," Rachel said frantically.

"It's okay, babe. We'll have plenty of time for that," she replied.

xoxo

Being away from Quinn took Rachel some getting used to. She had woken up early in the morning, a heavy feeling in her heart caused by the absence of her blond lover. She looked around her bedroom for some source comfort, but the soft yellow walls and familiar posters and canvas prints that decorated them, couldn't hold a candle to Quinn's warm embrace and the feel of her body against hers. Rachel sighed. She felt empty and without purpose. She'd been home for almost two weeks now, and the lingering worry-filled looks with which her fathers often regarded her, filled Rachel with trepidation. She felt caged, and didn't know how to set herself free.

She spent an hour in bed, trying to formulate a plan for the rest of her life. She thought about giving vocal lessons, as her daddy had tried to suggest, but she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to sell someone else on a dream that she herself had failed to fulfil. As soon as that thought had entered her mind, she felt as though all her Broadway musical posters were pointing and laughing at her. She quickly scrambled out of bed in an effort to avoid them.

She ambled into the kitchen and joined her fathers for breakfast.

"Good morning sweetheart," said Joshua, smiling at her while he brewed coffee.

"Sleep well, princess?" asked Michael, kissing the top of her head before motioning for her to sit down.

"Good morning dad, daddy," replied Rachel, trying hard to ignore that they still appeared to be walking on eggshells around her.

"What would you like for breakfast, baby?" asked Joshua.

"Oh, daddy, don't go to any trouble," she smiled.

"Nonsense," he replied, "How about waffles?"

Rachel smiled warmly, unable to turn down her daddy's famous waffles. "Perfect," she said. "Thank you daddy."

Joshua busied himself with preparing the waffles, grateful that he could do at least one thing for his daughter.

"What are you doing today honey?" asked Michael, setting his newspaper aside as Joshua brought him a cup of coffee.

"I thought I might go to _Michele's_ today, dad. I wanted to check the notices to see if there were any offers for work. I might stay and practice a little after that."

Michael smiled encouragingly at his daughter. She hadn't really left the house without Santana basically dragging her out. "That's wonderful, Rachel."

"Yes sweetheart, that sounds like a good idea," Joshua agreed.

Rachel stared at her reflection in the mirrors, all nine of them. She was standing in one of the smaller practice spaces of the dance studio. She had a long-standing agreement with the owner of _Michele's_, after all; she had started taking lessons here at the tender age of three.

She pulled nervously at her grey sweatpants and tapped her feet experimentally, pointing and flexing them a few times, getting a feel for her ballet slippers. She had already warmed up but felt unsure of her abilities. She started out slowly. _Plié, pirouette, grand-plié, step, step, fouetté, grand jeté. _As she performed each action she spoke the words in her head. But she still felt sloppy and unstable. _Plié, pirouette, grand-plié, step, step, fouetté, grand jeté. THUD. _She landed hard on her knees, unsure of why she couldn't land the moves with the practiced grace she once had. She folded her leg beneath her and stared at her shameful reflection. Brittany walked in and sat down next to her. "Brittany? What are you doing here?" she asked, surprise and embarrassment seeping into her voice.

"S said to come find you. I wanted to surprise you," she said. "Surprise!" Brittany's sweet smile and extended hands brought tears to Rachel's eyes.

"I am surprised," she said, allowing the blond's infectious smile to spread across her own face.

"Are you hurt?" she asked quietly.

"No, no," Rachel assured her. "I just suck," she explained ruefully.

"You don't suck. You looked really good before, I saw you," Brittany beamed. Rachel hung her head and sighed. "I couldn't do that," offered the blond.

Rachel raised her head to look at Brittany in disbelief. "Brittany, you're a professional dancer who tours both nationally and internationally, _and_ choreographs for pop stars," Rachel ranted. Brittany's face went blank for a moment.

"That doesn't mean I don't still fall down sometimes. The other day, I fell down on purpose so I could come see you and San," whispered Brittany, like she was under surveillance. Rachel couldn't help but giggle at the sweet blond. The sound returned the smile to Brittany's face.

"Thank you Brittany. It really is nice to see you."

"Come on, we're supposed to meet S downstairs," urged Brittany excitedly.

Rachel stood and replaced her ballet slippers with her running shoes before following Brittany down the stairs and onto the street. They had only taken a few steps when Rachel was stopped by a voice.

"So, the rumours really are true," a gruff voice called. "Hey Berry, did they kick you out of Rejectville too?" Rachel turned around slowly and faced Dave Karofsky. She clenched her fists and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Karofsky pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. "So what does twenty bucks get me?" he called loudly to her back.

Rachel froze. _How does he know? _Panicked thoughts raced through her mind.

"Maybe twenty's too much if you're that desperate. How about five? Will you suck my–"

"Finish that sentence and you'll be the one sucking my toes after I stick my foot that far up your ass." The threat was so venomous that Rachel would be surprised if there weren't holes in Karofsky's face. At the sound of Santana's voice Rachel turned around again to witness the confrontation, and make sure that she hadn't imagined the woman who was defending her honour. Santana's icy glare was fixed on the burly man, daring him to speak again, but he was shocked into silence by Santana's presence. Brittany moved to place an arm around Rachel's shoulders. The brunette relaxed against the heart-warming blond at her side.

"You okay?" she whispered. Rachel nodded. "Don't worry, S will take care of him." All Rachel could do was nod again.

"Wow, is there a slut convention in town that I don't know about?" said Karofsky. "All that's missing is that Fabray bitch. Or did she get knocked up again?"

Santana's back when rigid and she clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly as her sides while she continued to stare him down.

"What did you say?" she snarled.

"I think you heard me," he spat.

"No, I don't think I did," Santana replied evenly. " I seem to have come down with an acute case of what-the-fuck-alitis. You'll have to repeat yourself. Slowly. Using small words," Santana ground out through her clenched teeth. She seemed to be shaking with rage as she took step after step, getting closer to the soon to be dead man. Karofsky was either very brave, or very stupid, as he made no move to evade the Latina advancing on him like a hungry mountain lion.

Before Santana could draw first blood a hand appeared on Karofsky's shoulder. Noah Puckerman flexed his hand with bone crushing force, causing the other man to wince under the pressure.

"Puckerman," he said, turning around and trying to keep his composure.

"Apologize," said Noah.

"No," spat Karofsky. He wasn't going to lose his dignity and roll over just because of a hand on his shoulder. He turned to sneer at the three women in front of him, Santana still a few steps away from him.

"You think I'm scared of you, Cujo?" he laughed at her, pulling free from Noah's hand. Santana advanced on him, intent on disembowelling the piteous excuse of a man, but stopped when Noah moved forward to do the deed instead. She watched with a look of satisfaction on her face. Noah caught Karofsky's arm and twisted it behind his back with effortless grace. Karofsky squealed in pain. Noah bent close to his ear, "You can either apologize," Noah said gruffly, twisting the limb at an uncomfortable angle, "Or you'll be asking someone else to open jars for you for the rest of your life."

Santana stood before the quaking man, arms folded across her chest and a look of impatience amid the delight gracing her features.

"Sorry," he forced out, spittle flying from his mouth from the exertion.

"Not to me asshole," she said, stepping aside to reveal Rachel and Brittany. Noah applied a little more pressure onto the arm he had firmly in his grasp. Karofsky groaned.

"Sorry Rachel," he screamed.

Noah released his grip and pushed him away from his body like contaminated garbage. Karofsky held his arm close to his chest. "Stay away from them or you'll pay," threatened Noah. Then he flicked his eyes to the left, signalling that Karofsky should leave. He scampered away, got into his car and sped off.

"Puckasaurus," grinned Santana, shedding all traces of her anger.

"Now and then," he said grinning back at her. He fell into step beside her as she made her way back to the other women. Brittany still had a protective arm around the shorter brunette's shoulders. Noah pulled Rachel into a hug and greeted her with a smile.

"Hi Noah," she said, nerves still evident in her voice. She tried to shake off the encounter, but was still surprised at how Santana and Noah had willingly stood up for her.

"So, can I take you fine ladies out to lunch?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Santana punched him in the arm, holding back just a little bit.

"Just don't expect me and Britt to make out in front of you," she warned.

"I don't expect it," he said, "I just know you two can't keep your hands off each other." He grinned and managed to step out of Santana's reach as she made to punch him in the arm again.

They went to a nearby diner and slid into a corner booth.

"Thank you for handling Karofsky," said Rachel awkwardly, staring at her clasped hands on the table.

"I told you Rach, we've got your back," said Santana casually. Brittany nodded her agreement.

"I don't even know how he found out. I guess the whole town knows by now," she said sadly.

"He doesn't know a damn thing, Rachel. He's just a punk who thinks _all_ chicks are sluts," said Noah. "If he bothers you again just let me know. Or Cujo here can handle it," he said, jerking his thumb in Santana's direction. Santana glared at him.

"Bite me, Puckerman," she snarled.

"Now Santana, you're really not helping your cause in deterring the comparison between you and the dog," started Rachel, "If you really want –"

"Can it Berry," Santana snapped.

"It's not so bad, S. I love dogs," said Brittany, twirling her fingers through Santana's dark hair.

"I know baby, but this dog's kind of crazy and foams at the mouth," Santana tried to explain to her girlfriend. Brittany looked thoughtful.

"You kind of looked like that last night, S. Remember? You had the whipped cream and you licked –" Santana clamped a hand over Brittany's mouth before she could divulge any more information. Noah's eyes took on a glassy look; obviously lost in some sordid fantasy his mind had conjured up, while Rachel's cheeks were noticeably flushed as she tried to memorize the contents of the menu she had buried her nose in.

A stout, middle-aged waitress walked to the table and offered the group a much-needed distraction. "What can I get you?" she drawled lazily, staring at her notepad, her pen at the ready.

"Whipped cream," Noah said dreamily. "Ow!" he yelled suddenly, ripped from his daze as Santana kicked him swiftly under the table. Unable to contain themselves any longer, all four friends exchanged glances and laughter filled the air. The waitress sighed and stepped away. "I'll give you a minute," she said, walking towards the kitchen window to pick up another order.

After lunch with Noah, Santana dropped Rachel off at her house. She would check in with her after taking Brittany to the airport. The dancer had only gotten a day off from the tour, and Santana was adamant about getting some 'quality time' in before her flight. Rachel had really enjoyed catching up and hanging out with people she could consider her friends.

She looked around for her fathers, the sound of voices leading her to the basement. Both men were seated amongst the items that made up the unofficial "Rachel Berry Museum", and she could hear soft sobs accompanied by gentle, soothing sounds as one man comforted the other. Rachel froze at the top of the stairs and listened to the exchange.

"Our baby, our baby," cried Joshua. The sounds of his anguish muffled slightly as he leaned into Michael's chest. "How could this happen? How could we have failed her?" he sobbed. The sound of her daddy crying sent a shiver of guilt down her spine.

"We didn't fail her, love," soothed Michael, hugging the smaller man tighter to his chest. Rachel shut her eyes and waited for the blow, waited for the truth to be said aloud. She had failed them.

"No one failed," he said in a reassuring tone, rubbing Joshua's back. "You know that's not how these things work."

Joshua sobbed louder. Rachel's breath hitched in her throat at the mingling sounds of pain and comfort being shared by the two men. "We raised her to love and to believe in herself. We taught her to be strong. Don't forget that," he urged. "She'll find her way back."

Rachel forgot how to breathe. Her dad sounded so confident as he spoke of her. There was such love in his voice, such pride. She felt like she had betrayed that confidence and love. She suddenly felt like an intruder.

"You're right," said Joshua, his sobs easing off and his voice much calmer. "We raised her right. She's still our Rachel."

Rachel's heart thumped wildly in her chest. She may not be a disappointment to her fathers, but she did feel like a disappointment to herself. She quietly turned back to the door and made her way to the living room. She grabbed the copy of the 'Narcotics Anonymous' Handbook from the coffee table and rushed upstairs. _Reading it couldn't hurt_, she thought.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello! So, here it is chapter 8! I hope I haven't angered anyone with the long interval between this post and the last. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review, they mean the world to me. Thank you to everyone who has left a review, or even PMed me (that was a pleasant surprise). Uhm, ok. So this chapter has sexy times. Haha... I apologize for my lack of eloquence here, I haven't slept in 2 days because I've been working on this. So, just thought I'd warn you. Sexy times ahead. Tread cautiously! OK! ENJOY! REVIEW!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee. (But worked really damn hard on this story!)

* * *

Chapter Eight

Quinn relaxed against the back of her desk chair and stretched her arms over her head. She closed her eyes and tried to fend off the exhaustion enslaving her body. She had been staring at the documents on her computer until her eyes refused to make sense of the text on the screen. She fiddled idly with her cell phone, toying with the idea of calling Rachel. Glancing at the clock she decided against it, realising how late it really was. She smiled at the picture of the brunette on the screen, with the smile she was missing so intensely. The screen lit up and alerted her to a new picture message. She read the message from Noah.  
_"Thought u might like to see how ur girl is doing." _

Quinn opened the picture to see Rachel wearing light grey coveralls, her long dark hair in pigtails that hung messily over her shoulders, and black, greasy smudges on her face. Quinn imagined Rachel had just been lecturing Noah on something, her hands placed firmly on her hips. She had no doubt smeared the grease on her own cheeks in her haste to deliver her diatribe. The next picture was one of Rachel's back as she ran to clean herself up having just realised her error. Quinn smiled at the next message.  
_"She's doing really well. We all miss u."_

Quinn tapped a message back to Noah.

"_Thanks Noah. I'll see you all soon."_

Her next message was simple but the reply she received after it was sent made her heart feel full.  
_"I love you too. I'm incomplete without you."_

Quinn let out a steadying breath, trying to make her brain accept the reasons she couldn't jump on a plane right now and head straight for Lima and Rachel. She saved the document she was working on and moved to her bedroom. Settling into the bed, she stared up at the ceiling and thought back to Rachel's last text message, an unquestionable smile gracing her features. She felt incomplete without Rachel. There was a lack of that peaceful feeling that always settled over her when Rachel slept beside her. During the short period of time they had spent together Quinn had felt strong vine-like bonds wrapping around Rachel and herself, drawing the two together. There was a distinct piece of herself missing; a piece she had unknowingly placed in Rachel's possession. She fell asleep with the picture of Rachel's smiling face in her head.

Quinn was vibrating with anticipation by the time she got off the plane. It had been just over a month since she had seen Rachel. She was greeted with the smile she had missed so much at the airport. Quinn dropped her bag and wrapped her arms securely around Rachel, feeling the unmistakable click of completion as she did so. "I missed you, I missed you so much," she gushed into Rachel's hair, inhaling the brunette's scent like it was her first taste of oxygen in years. Rachel clung to her desperately, burying herself in Quinn's body like she was trying to get inside of her.

"I missed you too. I thought I'd never see you again," Rachel said, the sound muffled by the body she was plastered to. Quinn pulled back and lifted Rachel's face to hers.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just like herpes, I'm going to keep coming back to you," Quinn said seriously.

Rachel scrunched her face in disgust. "Could you not think of something more romantic to say that wasn't a comparison between yourself and a venereal disease?" she asked.

"I even missed your habitual over-talking," sighed Quinn. "And I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know that I'm not going anywhere," she joked. She pressed her lips to Rachel's and sighed into their softness. "I also missed that," she said dreamily, once she pried her lips away. Rachel smiled and stroked Quinn's cheek affectionately.

"I missed you doing that," she confessed. "So, are we going to leave? Or do you like it here?" she asked after a moment.

"I like anywhere you are," she replied. Rachel scoffed at her sappiness.

"Well, I'll be in the car," she said turning to leave. Quinn reclaimed her bag from the floor and followed the brunette, who was mumbling something that sounded like, "Who knew head bitch Fabray was such a softie?"

"Don't tell anyone," said Quinn softly, grabbing Rachel's hand and lacing their fingers together.

The car ride from the airport to the Berry house was far too long in Quinn's opinion. She was a little nervous about staying at Rachel's fathers' house but Rachel had insisted that it made no sense for her to stay in a hotel. Quinn had tuned out most of the resulting lecture about how a hotel wouldn't feel as homey as her fathers' house would, not to mention the standard of hotels in Lima or the fact that it would be easier to spend time together if they simply stayed together. Quinn had acquiesced before Rachel had hit her stride of the argument but the brunette kept up the delivery of the speech regardless. It ceased only when Quinn managed to casually squeeze in these few words, "I guess I'll have to wait a little longer for hotel sex."

That had caused Rachel to pause her monologue and Quinn could have sworn she was making a pro and con list based on this new information. The sudden silence in the car was eerie so Quinn added, "That was a joke, Rachel."

"Oh, yes, of course," she replied, a soft pink blush rising into her cheeks. Quinn lifted her hand and stroked the tinted skin, calming Rachel down.

"I love you," she said. Rachel beamed a smile at her.

"I love you too," she answered.

They made their way into the house and Quinn stood just inside the door and surveyed her surroundings. Rachel was right; it did feel homey. There were family pictures hanging on the walls, a few portraits of Rachel at different ages, as well as candid photos of all three. Quinn looked at the photos and knew it must have been hard on Rachel's parents when she barred them from coming to visit her during her days of drug abuse. She knew it had hurt Rachel very much.

"Quinn?"

She was roused from her thoughts by the sound of her name being called from the stairs. She looked up into Rachel's quizzical face. "You coming?" she asked. Quinn nodded and moved up the stairs. She followed Rachel into a bedroom with soft yellow walls, decorated with posters and art prints. There was a large poster-bed in the middle of the room. A white vanity with a mirror sat against the far wall next to the door leading to the en suite bathroom. Quinn quickly realised that she was in Rachel's bedroom. She eyed her petite hostess and quirked an eyebrow. "Are your dads going to be okay with us sharing?" she inquired. Rachel shot her a disbelieving look.

"Quinn, I am an adult," she said firmly.

"An adult living under her parents' roof," she countered. "Who still has pink floral bed sheets," she added with a smirk.

"I like pink," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips. Quinn recognised the stance immediately and hurriedly tried to divert Rachel's attention from the speech she was about to launch into.

"I'm not complaining here, I just want to make sure your dads are comfortable with it, that's all," she amended. "Do they know about us?"

Rachel looked at Quinn but dropped her defiant expression. "I didn't know what to really call 'us'," she admitted. "I wasn't sure if we were really together, or if it was just out of pity, or if you were going to forget about me and go on with your life in LA," she answered bluntly. "We never really had that conversation."

"Ouch," said Quinn. The words stung slightly but she knew the brunette was right. They had never defined their relationship, or discussed a plan regarding what would happen once Rachel returned to Lima. Quinn had thought it best to let Rachel decide what she wanted. She hadn't realised Rachel believed her affection was out of pity and would drop her like yesterday's garbage. She needed to correct that. She crossed the room and stood directly in front of Rachel, taking both her hands in hers. Her hazel eyes stared intently into the warm, chocolate eyes of her counterpart. Quinn took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry that I didn't make things clearer for you. I thought you wanted time and space to figure things out," she started. Rachel nodded but remained silent, allowing the blond to continue. "I could never just drop you, Rachel. I wasn't sure if you wanted to be," she searched for the word, "Something more permanent. I didn't want to pressure you. But the truth is, I want you. And being away from you this past month has only solidified that fact. I don't want to be without you again. I don't know how to make this work but I want to." Quinn squeezed the hands she was holding. "Say something," she said softly, after a few moments of silence had passed.

"I'm waiting for you to ask me," replied Rachel vaguely.

"Ask you what?" came the confused response. Rachel just stared in silence, dipping her head down once, willing Quinn to work out what she meant. "Oh," said Quinn, suddenly understanding. She laughed lightly at the ridiculousness of the notion but because it was Rachel she accepted the task. "Rachel Berry, will you be my girlfriend?"

Rachel squealed and threw her arms around Quinn's neck, stretching up on her toes to accomplish the action. "Yes," she sighed into Quinn's neck. "Nothing would make me happier." Quinn pulled Rachel back by her hips and kissed her. Rachel deepened the kiss, licking along Quinn's lower lip until she was granted access. It was a passionate kiss, full of the confidence of shared affection. Quinn's fingers shifted the hem of Rachel's blouse so she could caress the soft skin of her waist while Rachel's hands tangled in her silky, blond locks. She pulled Rachel to the bed and gently lowered the brunette down while their tongues explored one another. Her fingers smoothed over Rachel's skin beneath the fabric of the blouse and she kissed her way down the tanned neck, substituting tongue for teeth intermittently as Rachel writhed beneath her. Quinn was lost in the sensations and emotions of the moment and continued to rake her fingers and nails over the skin she found, slowly making her way towards Rachel's breast. "This feels so good," she moaned. When Rachel didn't say anything she lifted her face from the neck she'd been lavishing and found tears trailing down Rachel's face. Everything inside Quinn crashed at the sight. She immediately sat up, panic flooding her features as she moved to wipe away the tears. "Baby what's wrong?" she said urgently. Rachel bit down on her knuckles, struggling for control over her emotions.

"I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm just," she left the sentence unfinished as tears continued to stream down her face.

"No, it's me. I'm sorry. I just got caught up," Quinn replied. She'd pushed the boundary again but hadn't meant to. She'd promised to wait until Rachel was ready and she was angry with herself for her loss of control. "I just want you so badly, I didn't mean to," she tried to explain.

"I want you too," she said. "I just can't help but feel that I'm going to taint you."

Quinn shook her head and continued to capture the falling tears like they were precious gems.

"You're not going to taint me Rachel. I love you. And I know you don't believe it yet, but you're not dirty," she soothed. She lifted one of Rachel's hands and placed it over her heart. "You feel that?" she asked. Rachel nodded, staring at her hand placed over Quinn's hammering heart. Quinn covered her hand with hers. "That's all you. I've never felt anything like this with anyone before," she confessed. "When I'm with you, I lose myself in you. And I feel better for it, not tainted. You make my heart full. You make it race. And all I want to do is love you. You need to let me love you, Rachel."

Rachel nodded slowly, a small smile appearing on her face. Quinn really did love her. She needed to let go of all these negative thoughts so she could do that love justice. She smiled a brighter smile when Quinn leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I know you'll get there. I won't push."

"Eventually you won't have to," replied Rachel.

"Good. But I hope you won't mind walking around in baggy sweats for the duration of my stay, because woman you drive me insane," she joked.

"Quinn Fabray, I'll have you know that even in sweats I could drive you crazy with want," she teased back. "You're just that insatiable."

"So, guest room tonight?" she asked.

"No. I trust that you won't molest me during my sleep," she replied.

"I don't know," Quinn hesitated. Rachel gave her a playful shove.

"I could always get a balloon to put between us," she teased, remembering Quinn's days as the president of the Celibacy Club. Quinn flopped down on her back beside Rachel and groaned, hiding her face in her arm.

"Am I ever going to live that down?" she questioned. "Actually, I could probably make that balloon thing work," she added thoughtfully.

"Quinn!" Rachel reprimanded.

"I was kidding. The only thing I want to rub up against is you," she flirted.

"Alright Fabray, I get it. You're horny," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Only for you," she said, moving to kiss Rachel on the lips.

Rachel pulled her down so that their foreheads rested against each other, and looked deeply into Quinn's hazel eyes. "Soon, okay?"

"When you're ready," Quinn corrected. She pressed a light kiss to Rachel's nose and rose from the bed. She extended her hand towards her girlfriend and said, "Come on, let's grab some lunch. I hate plane food."

The next few days passed quickly, and Quinn found it easy to slot into the Berry household. She got on well with both Joshua and Michael, who seemed to look at Quinn like she was a saint who delivered Rachel from harm. She didn't want to think of it that way. It had just been fate.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Quinn asked for the hundredth time. She turned to face Rachel and put her hand on the shorter woman's knee. Rachel smiled at the touch and shook her head.

"No Quinn, you're supposed to be spending the day with Noah. It's your day. I'll be fine," Rachel replied determinedly.

"But –" Rachel placed a finger over Quinn's moving lips.

"I'll be fine. It's just a standard check up. Now go. Noah will be waiting," she said with finality. Quinn nodded and climbed out of the car. Rachel would attend her doctor's appointment and take the car home, while Quinn met Noah at the garage so they could commemorate Beth's birthday. It was early afternoon and Quinn walked down the pavement passing storefront windows on her way to Noah's. A colourful advertisement set up in a window caught her attention and made her stop. She thought for a moment before walking through the door, a devilish smirk playing on her lips. _Noah can wait a little longer_, she thought.

"Jesus Fabray, where have you been?" Noah demanded.

"It's good to see you too Noah," she said sweetly. She was only half an hour late and thought her little side trip was worth it. Noah wrapped his strong arms around Quinn's shoulders and gave her a firm squeeze.

"You ready?" he asked. Quinn nodded and followed him up the stairs to the loft above the garage where Noah lived. She smiled as she entered his living room. He always made sure to clean up the place for this occasion. There were bowls of chips and beer bottles sitting on the coffee table in front of the worn, leather couch. Two party hats sat on the edge of the table, and in the centre of all these items sat a small, white envelope. She took a seat on the couch and grabbed her pink party hat, stretching the elastic under her chin. Noah did the same with his. He then pulled out his camera and the two leaned in closer together to take a photo. Both smiled as brightly as they could, but when the click sounded and the flash went off, their expressions were sombre. Noah reached for a bottle of beer and twisted the cap off, handing the beverage to Quinn before he opened another bottle for himself.

"Happy Birthday Beth," he said, failing to hide the sadness in his voice.

"Happy Birthday Beth," echoed Quinn. They clinked their bottles together before each taking a sip of beer.

"Ok, so you wanna open it?" he asked, looking at Quinn. She downed another gulp of beer and set the bottle down on the table.

He handed her the envelope and she opened it, anxious to see the contents awaiting them. She pulled out a photograph and a letter. The picture of a smiling, dark haired girl flooded both of them with pride and affection. Beth was ten years old now and growing into a beautiful young girl. Her shoulder length hair curled at the ends and her hazel eyes lit up with the smile she wore. Quinn unfolded the letter and touched the scrawled letters affectionately. They had received one letter every year. Beth's adoptive parents wrote to them of Beth's progress and when she was old enough to understand they had explained to her that she was adopted. Beth had started writing the letters herself when she was ready. That year, they had received two letters; the standard birthday letter from her parents Emily and Steven, the second coming five months later from Beth herself. Noah had told Quinn to keep the first letter for herself. Quinn took it out occasionally to read her daughter's words. She felt solace that the young girl did not resent her for the decision she had made, and took comfort in the fact that she was happy with Emily and Steve.

She read the letter out loud, the pride she felt recognizable in her voice. She clutched the letter to her chest when she was done, trying not to cry. She passed the paper to Noah so he could read it again for himself while she took her bottle in hand and gulped the alcohol down greedily. She picked up the photograph and memorized her daughter's face. Noah would make her a copy and she would put it in the scrapbook she kept the others in.

"She's a good kid," said Noah, reaching for his bottle to take a sip.

"Yeah," she agreed. "She's happy and doing well in school."

"You made the right decision, you know," he said.

"We made the right decision," she corrected him. The conversation was always the same. But with each passing year and every letter and photograph they received, their conviction on this subject grew. They weren't ready to be parents to Beth at the time. And giving her up was the best thing they could have done for her. They were both grateful to have this piece of her.

They talked about the letter for a little longer, drinking beer and eating chips, and then moved onto other topics of conversation and catching up with each other's lives.

"Thank you for sticking up for Rachel when she was being hassled by Karofsky," said Quinn during a lull in the conversation.

"It's nothing, Q," he assured her. "She doesn't deserve to take any shit from that asshole."

"No, she doesn't. But thank you for taking care of her. Not just with that, but while I'm not around," she said.

"She's like my Jewish sister from another mister," he replied, opening another bottle of beer.

Quinn laughed warmly. "Well I'm glad she's got a big brother like you."

"So," he said lazily, "You're gay for Berry huh?"

"Yes Noah, I am gay for Rachel Berry."

"Shit, if this keeps up I'm gonna get a complex," he said shaking his head. Quinn arched her eyebrow at the comment, not following what he meant. "First Santana and now you and Rachel. It's like I have gay superpowers," he said chuckling. "Is it me?" he asked sceptically.

Quinn laughed again, finally understanding the man's distress. "Think of it this way. You were just too much man for us," she said.

"I like the sound of that," he said nodding his head. "But am I too much man for both of –" he started to say, but was silenced by the steely glare Quinn had fixed him with. "I had to try," he said shrugging his shoulders. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink. Quinn gave him a warm smile. She had to admit it was worth a try.

Quinn rushed over to Rachel when she made her way to the door to collect her. She draped herself over the smaller brunette and buried her face in her hair. "Missed you," she said loudly.

Rachel smiled, "I missed you too," she said quirking an eyebrow at Quinn's level of sobriety.

"Hi Rachel," said Noah, smiling lazily at the brunette. "She's a little drunk," he slurred.

"I am not drunk," said Quinn affronted by the accusation. "I am tipsy."

Rachel smiled at her two friends. Quinn might not have been quite as drunk as Noah was, but she was still unused to the blond being this way. She couldn't begrudge her letting loose though; she didn't know what it was like to celebrate your child's birthday without your child being there. She opted to share the humour.

"Sure baby, tipsy is the word. Noah, I hope you haven't been taking advantage of my woman," she said teasingly.

"Woman? Are you going to beat your chest now and drag me back to your cave?" asked Quinn, leaning back from the supportive shoulder of her girlfriend to look at her incredulously.

"Only if you behave," winked Rachel. If Noah had been more aware of what was going on he would've joined in the flirtatious banter and offered them the use of his cave, but he was too busy leaning heavily against the wall of the garage and felt as though he should excuse himself.

"Noah, you should probably go inside and get into bed," laughed Rachel.

"Yeah, thanks Berry. Nigh' Quinn, Rachel," he said before dragging himself back through the door.

"Bye Noah. Thank you," called Quinn. She spun around quickly to regard Rachel. Rachel inadvertently took a step back, fearing the action would cause Quinn to throw up on her. Quinn raised her eyebrow.

"What was that for?" she asked, putting one hand on her hip.

"Nothing, come on let's go home," answered Rachel. She walked to the car and opened the passenger side door and waited for Quinn to climb in before shutting it for her.

They fell through the front door, a tangle of limbs. Quinn burst into a fit of giggles and whisper shouted that they should be quiet. Rachel laughed at Quinn's drunken state. "Don't worry babe, no one else is here. They've gone to a dinner party and won't be back for hours," she explained. She watched Quinn right herself and eye her up with what was supposed to be a seductive look as she waggled her eyebrows. "Oh no Fabray," Rachel said sternly, "You are drunk."

"I am not," she said petulantly. "Besides, I have a surprise for you," she said walking backwards up the stairs, coaxing Rachel to follow her with a finger. Rachel followed closely, more out of concern for Quinn's safety as she walked backwards up the flight of stairs than the promise of surprises. Quinn had done a good job navigating the stairs and Rachel watched as she strutted into the bedroom and threw her purse onto the floor.

"You," said Quinn, "Sit there," she instructed, pointing to the bed. Rachel smirked at Quinn's forcefulness but did as she was told. She watched as the blond pulled her shirt over her head, ruffling her blond locks into a frenzy. Rachel licked her lips unconsciously at the sight before her. The blond hair now mussed sexily around her shoulders, tendrils hanging haphazardly over her black lace bra, the colour rendering a more dramatic contrast to her porcelain skin. She raked her eyes from the swell of Quinn's breasts to the toned expanse of her stomach, framed by the knee length pencil skirt that clung to her hips and thighs.

"Do you like what you see?" asked Quinn. She had her hands in her hair like she was posing for some kind of photo shoot. Rachel drank her in once more, working hard to swallow the lump in her throat. Quinn grinned smugly at the brunette on the bed and slowly advanced on her, putting an extra sway in her hips as she sauntered over. The movement hypnotized Rachel until Quinn came to a halt in front of her. She turned around to face the opposite wall and purred, "Unzip me baby?"

Rachel didn't need to be told twice. She smoothed her hands over Quinn's outer thighs making a lazy trek up to her hips where she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the skirt. She moved her thumbs along the inside of the band teasingly, running them from her hips to meet in the middle of her lower back, feeling Quinn's body thrum with electricity at her feathery touch. She gripped the zipper and slid it down seductively. Quinn turned to face the brunette, her hazel eyes hooded and dark. "Thank you," she smiled, biting on the corner of her lower lip. Rachel's breath hitched in her throat. She had no idea that Quinn was capable of this level of temptation, she was oozing sex from every pore and Rachel wanted nothing more than to lap it up from every inch of her inviting skin. There was a steady heat flowing through her body, a concentrated pool of that energy buried between her legs. She shivered with want.

She watched Quinn slide the fabric of her skirt down her legs. It pooled on the floor and she stepped out of it. She stood in just her lacy, black thong that matched her bra, looking like a goddess. Rachel forced down the moan that had built up within her. This was more than want; it was need. She was about to pounce on Quinn so she could ravage the sultry blond and ease the tension that was coursing through her body when the blond spoke. Her tone was so silky, the words seemed to thread around Rachel and hold her to attention where she sat on the bed.

"Are you ready?" asked Quinn. She moved slightly closer to Rachel who was breathing heavily and longing to touch the beauty before her. "This is for you." Quinn pulled the lacy undergarment down her legs. Rachel wasn't sure what happened to it after it had revealed Quinn's surprise, and honestly she didn't care. All she could see and all she could think about was the neat patch of blond curls that had been shaped into a star. It was a gold star. Quinn stared down at her girlfriend with hooded eyes, a smirk still playing on her lips as she watched Rachel's reaction.  
"Quinn, it's," Rachel tried to formulate words but she was struggling to form even one coherent thought. She grabbed the blond's hips and pulled her forward, kissing along the newly displayed pattern and exposed skin. Quinn threw her head back, giddy at the touch of Rachel's lips and tongue against her flesh. She kissed along the skin of Quinn's inner thigh all the way to the centre of the star, and then did the same with the other thigh. Quinn grabbed fistfuls of brown locks while her body registered each caress and lick. Rachel pulled her down onto the bed and hastily straddled Quinn's hips. She smirked down at the blond as she undid the front clasp of the black bra.

"Prepared for everything I see," she purred, before dipping her head to lavish attention on her breast. Her hand moved over one mound while she drew the other into her mouth. Quinn moaned throatily at every sensation. All the alcohol was leached from her system and she instead became intoxicated by Rachel's touch and scent.

"You need to get out of those clothes," she managed to say between ragged gasps as small, soft hands caressed here and pinched there. Rachel grunted once, annoyed by the inconvenience of having to stop pleasuring the body beneath her. The offending garments were all but ripped from Rachel's lithe form, and Quinn didn't even get the satisfaction of taking in the tanned flesh before Rachel was touching and sucking on her skin again. They were pressed so tightly together, almost melded into one. Quinn felt like Rachel was everywhere at once, sucking and biting on her neck while her hands roved over her lower extremities. Her breasts caressed Quinn's each time the brunette shifted to mark another spot on her neck. Quinn moaned desperately, both unwilling and unable to get away from the surging sensations.

"Oh God, baby please," she moaned huskily, "It's too much, I need you." Rachel swallowed the rest of Quinn's babbling with her mouth, slipping her tongue inside and exploring with expert vivacity. She slowly trailed a hand down the porcelain skin, nearing Quinn's entrance. The blond tightened her grip in Rachel's hair. Rachel only smiled into the desperate embrace, concentrating on her fingers as they gently stroked Quinn. She felt her shudder beneath her at the first touch, moaning into her mouth while Rachel teased her. She circled the bud of nerves lazily and Quinn threw her head to the side and groaned her pleasure. She was gasping and drowning in the feelings Rachel evoked from her body.

"You're so wet baby, and you feel so good," Rachel purred into her ear before tugging lightly on the earlobe. Quinn moaned Rachel's name again, bucking her hips to try and feel more of the brunette where she wanted it most. "Tell me what you want," she whispered close to Quinn's ear.

"Oh God, Rachel please," cried Quinn. "You know, you know what I want," she said pleadingly. Rachel dipped her fingers deeper into the wetness but didn't quite enter her.

Quinn let out another moan, "Yes baby, please," she moaned. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you."

Rachel bent her head down to kiss Quinn passionately on the lips.

"I've been waiting ten years to hear you say that Quinn Fabray," she whispered. And in one smooth action that came as natural as breathing she slid into the warm cavity. Quinn moaned louder at the tight fit of the first thrust. Rachel eased in and out at a slow steady pace, concentrating on the silkiness surrounding her fingers. Quinn met each thrust with the rise of her hips and moaned and cried out in ecstasy at Rachel's touch. Rachel increased the speed for a few strokes then slowed down almost to stop, only to build Quinn back up to dizzying heights of pleasure. Both women were glistening under a thin veil of sweat. Rachel allowed Quinn's hands to caress and stroke her breasts but was more interested in eliciting throaty moans from her. When Quinn shifted her thigh to rub against Rachel's wetness the brunette threw her head back and moaned loudly. Quinn felt the tightness in her body grow even tighter at the sound of Rachel's audible pleasure and the feeling of her arousal coating the skin of her thigh as she rode her desperately. Quinn's body reacted before her mind did. She grabbed Rachel's wrists and wrestled the brunette down onto the sheets so she was on top of her.

Wait, Quinn, what," the brunette floundered breathily until the sentence morphed into a long, throaty moan. All thoughts vanished under the caress of Quinn's tongue, gently licking the moisture from her slit. Her eyes slipped shut but she could see only stars while she floated away from her body in infinite pleasure. She tangled her hands in the messy blond locks in an attempt to ground herself amidst all the sensations being visited upon her. She moaned loudly, calling Quinn's name with each stroke and every kiss. "Oh, Quinn. That feels so good," she cried out.

Quinn wanted Rachel's first time with her to be a gentle and loving experience. She guided her tongue through the saturated folds and relished Rachel's taste on her tongue as she pushed it in deeper. This earned her a low growl of satisfaction and Rachel lifted her hips in time to Quinn's rhythmical strokes. She pushed in as far as she could, using her lips and teeth to tease the pleasure out of her. If beauty had a taste it was Rachel. If beauty could be touched it was inside the body she had moulded herself to. Everything felt so perfect and so good. Quinn wanted to stay in this moment for as long as possible. They moved against each other like an ocean tide, rising and falling as smoothly as taking breath. Quinn replaced her tongue with her fingers and thrust in with the same rhythm she had set, never missing the beat she kept with Rachel. She kissed her way up the tanned skin of Rachel's body until she reached her face and captured her lips in a languid kiss. Rachel cried out more fervently, picking up the pace of Quinn's hand. Quinn buried her face in Rachel's neck and spoke to her in heated whispers. "This is what you've been hiding from me?" Quinn breathed, "Rachel you're beautiful. You don't ever have to hide from me again." Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck and brought her down for a kiss, never opening her eyes.

The truth was Rachel was scared she was dreaming; that if she opened her eyes all the emotions and sensations would cease and she would find herself in a dingy apartment with only an empty syringe for company.

Quinn continued to pleasure her, drinking in her flushed face and the beads of sweat dotting her collar bone, the way her damp hair clung to the sides of her face while she writhed and bucked at Quinn's touch.

"Baby, open your eyes. Look at me," urged Quinn. "I want to see your release, I want to see you come undone. I want to watch you unravel so I can put you back together piece by piece. Look at me," she said firmly. Rachel opened her eyes and stared into the hazel orbs above her. There was so much emotion in Rachel's chocolate eyes that Quinn felt like she was drowning. "You're safe Rachel, I've got you," she said soothingly. "I love you. You're safe baby." She pumped her fingers faster and felt Rachel clench and shudder around her hand. "I love you, come for me," she said. Rachel cried out at the sound of Quinn's urgency, tensing and relaxing as each wave of pleasure crashed over her and exhausted her. She had leaned forward into Quinn's body, clinging desperately to the woman who had brought her release. She panted into the blond's neck, body still reacting from the orgasm she'd had. "I love you, Quinn," she gasped. "I love you."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **OK, so hello. I know you'd all probably love to throw fruit at me for taking this long. I apologize. But here it is. This chapter was a BEAST to tame! Anyway, enjoy and review! Thank you to all those who have reviewed and favourited! It really does mean a lot to me. So here you go! Enjoy! :D

**Disclaimer: **Do not own Glee. Just borrowing the characters. Plot is mine though.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Quinn shifted her legs experimentally; trying to feel for the body she hoped was still in the bed with her. Silky skin met silky skin under the covers and she smiled at the warmth the touch evoked. She moved her arms to cuddle Rachel and pulled herself closer to the petite body.

"Good morning," said Rachel, her voice still lazy with sleep.

"Good morning," she replied, nuzzling into Rachel's soft hair and giving her a tight squeeze. "I'll be honest and say I was sure you would bolt and take refuge in the guest room."

Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's, melting into the morning embrace and the safety of the arms encircling her. "I'll be honest and say the thought had crossed my mind," she laughed, "But I couldn't remember how to move after your performance last night."

Quinn laughed lightly at the admission, burying her face further into the messy brown locks of her lover. "Then I'm glad I was that thorough."

Rachel smiled and rubbed her legs against Quinn's under the sheets.

"Was that," Quinn struggled for the correct phrasing. "I mean, it was okay, right?"

Rachel's face scrunched in puzzlement but Quinn's face was still buried in her hair so she couldn't see the confusion dancing in her brown eyes.

"You don't regret it do you?" asked Quinn; nervous of the answer she would receive.

"Quinn, look at me," said Rachel. She waited for hazel eyes to peek out of the mess of hair. "Do I look like I regret it?" she asked with a smile.

"You look beautiful," answered Quinn earnestly. She thought about how lucky she would be to wake up to this sight every morning. "But that doesn't answer my question."

Rachel rolled her eyes but turned around to face the blond. She leaned in to press her lips against Quinn's.

"No, Quinn. I do not regret a single second," she said firmly. She watched the soft, pink lips spread eagerly into a smile and felt her facial expression mirror that of the angel in her bed.

"Good. Neither do I," said Quinn.

"It felt right," said Rachel, more to herself than to Quinn. "Also, you were kind of amazing. Where did you learn to do that?"

Quinn blushed furiously at the turn the conversation had taken, and pulled a pillow over her head to hide her embarrassment.

"We're not having this conversation, Rachel," her muffled voice replied.

"Why not?" she asked, genuinely curious now.

"Because, I just want to hold you right now," she replied, moving her arms around Rachel's waist again.

"It's a simple question, Quinn," Rachel pushed, tugging the pillow from Quinn's head.

"Rachel," she whined.

"Alright, fine."

"Thank you," Quinn said, exhaling slowly like she had just dodged a bullet. She pulled the brunette closer to her body and enjoyed the sunlight dancing on the tanned skin left exposed by the sheets.

"This is more satisfying than talking anyway," admitted Rachel. Quinn nodded in agreement and dropped soft kisses on Rachel's neck and shoulder. A few minutes passed in silence while they each succumbed to the loving bubble they had wrapped themselves in.

"So, how many were there before me?" Rachel asked bluntly, unable to contain herself any longer.

"Rachel!" shrieked Quinn.

The stubborn brunette huffed but filed the conversation away for a later date.

Their soft touches and kisses had turned greedier and more heated, and before Quinn knew it Rachel was panting.

"Do that thing again, you know, with the swirl?" she'd asked innocently.

And Quinn had grinned devilishly, disappearing under the sheet, eager to fulfil the request.

It was mid morning by the time Rachel and Quinn had left the bedroom.

They chased each other into the kitchen, glad that there was no audience to see their enamoured interactions. Quinn was especially glad that both Michael and Joshua had already left for work and she would not have to endure the looks, which silently accused her of doing indecent things with their precious daughter. She hoped to put off that conversation for as long as possible.

"What should we make for breakfast?" asked Rachel as she peered into the refrigerator. Quinn wrapped her arms around her waist and peered into the refrigerator over the brunette's shoulder. She soon discovered that the caramel skin of Rachel's neck looked so much more appetizing than anything she had glimpsed within the cold confines.

"You pick," she said, laving her tongue along the column of her neck.

"I'm not on the menu, Quinn," smiled Rachel, her eyes fluttering closed and betraying the stern tone of her voice.

"Why not?" she asked, moving to shift Rachel's skirt a little higher and exposing the skin of her thighs. Rachel groaned at the assault on her body, Quinn's touch easily coaxing the response from her.

"Don't I satisfy you?" she asked, worry filling her voice. "You always seem to want more."

Quinn moved her mouth to Rachel's ear and tugged on the lobe before answering huskily, "Baby, you're the only thing that does." Reading between the lines of Rachel's statement she added, "That's why I always want you." Her words melted away Rachel's insecurities. Quinn's hand snaked under Rachel's blouse and cupped her breast, teasing the nipple under the fabric of her bra.

"Oh," whimpered Rachel. Surprised by the sudden sensation as well as Quinn's words.

"How about you hop onto the counter?" she whispered into Rachel's ear, rubbing the pads of her fingers across the front of Rachel's cotton underwear. Rachel's breath hitched in her throat. "Quinn, we can't," she squeaked.

"Then why did you get that much wetter when I suggested it?" she breathed against her neck, her mouth moving to suck on a bruise she'd left last night.

"How can I not when you're doing what you're doing?" she replied breathlessly.

"So," she husked, "Counter?"

Rachel spun around to face the blond, her brown eyes dark with lust. She pushed Quinn back against the kitchen counter and the blond took in the dominating look on Rachel's face, a smirk playing on her lips. Rachel motioned for Quinn to sit on the counter and she eagerly complied, pulling Rachel's smaller frame towards her. Delicate fingers made light work of the button and zipper of the jeans she was wearing, before they were tugged down the strong, pale thighs they had covered. Impatient for more contact Quinn pulled Rachel's face closer, bending down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Rachel broke the contact and licked her lips, gently pushing Quinn onto her back. She ducked her head between the pale thighs and moaned when she felt Quinn's arousal against her lips.

Rachel's head snapped up at the sound of the shrieking telephone. Quinn tightened her grip in the mussed, brown locks and groaned, "Just let it ring baby," hoping that Rachel wouldn't stop what she was doing. She moaned lightly at the teasing tongue of her lover, ignoring the persistent ringing of the telephone. Rachel tried to drown out the wailing phone, focusing instead on the favourable sounds exiting Quinn's perfect mouth. The trilling sound kept piercing her consciousness, ripping her away from the moment she was sharing with the beauty on the counter top, and reminding her that they were in her parent's kitchen. She sighed in exasperation, torn between pleasure and obligation.

"Quinn, it could be important," Rachel protested.

"Rachel, are you kidding me?" she answered incredulously. Rachel smiled bemusedly at her girlfriend's frazzled response and placed a kiss on both her thighs. Turning her attention away from the body lying on the counter, she moved to pick up the phone.

"Berry residence," she announced into the receiver, pushing the sultriness out of her voice and replacing it with courtesy. "This is Rachel Berry," she added, after the caller's response.

Quinn growled her disappointment, resting her head back against the counter with a dull thump. She listened to Rachel's exchanges with the caller, hearing the deflation in her usually strong voice with each passing phrase. Sighing with the dissatisfaction of knowing their previous activities would not be continued; she wrestled her clothes back on and sat up on the counter, kicking her legs with impatience.

"Alright, I'll see you then. Thank you," said Rachel. She returned the handset back to its cradle and sighed.

"Rachel?" prompted Quinn.

Rachel turned to face the blond, folding her arms across her chest. Her brow was furrowed with anxiety. Quinn's pulse quickened at the signs of distress.

"What's going on? Who was that?" she asked, trying to remain calm.

"It was Stephen Norton," she answered, looking up at Quinn. "He's the co-ordinator for the Lima Community Theatre. He wants me to assist with their production," she said slowly, trying to process the information as she uttered it.

"Okay," said Quinn.

"They need an assistant stage manager," she continued. "Mark from N.A gave them my name because he knows of my theatre background," she swallowed, "It's part of the programme to give back to the community and he thought I'd be interested."

Quinn slid from the counter and wrapped her arms around Rachel. She placed a soft kiss on her forehead and looked into her eyes, trying to soothe away the worry she found in her face. "And aren't you?" she questioned.

Rachel closed her eyes against the question. It wasn't something she thought she'd have to face again. She felt unprepared, yet obligated.

"I haven't been near the theatre, not since Tony," she whispered. Quinn instinctively held her a little tighter. "I know I have to do this, but I'm not sure if I want to. I don't know if I'm ready to go back into that world. And I know it's not the same world I'm referencing, but," she finally drew a shaky breath. "Quinn, I'm scared."

Quinn moved her hand to rub lazy circles on her back, trying to comfort the brunette. "It will be okay. I know it's scary, but you can do this. If Mark put your name forward he must think you're ready for this. I think you are," she said gently. She felt Rachel's shaky breaths caress her neck. "You don't have to decide right now, but at least think about it. There's so much you have to offer them Rachel."

"What if I can't?" she answered, her voice tight with threatening tears.

"Then you can walk away. But the Rachel Berry I know will at least try. There is still a piece of you missing. You can feel that, can't you? Theatre was your dream, and I don't think you've given that up yet. I think you're just scared. But I'm here. I'll protect you," she affirmed.

"I know you will," she answered, pulling back from the blond's body to look at her through shining eyes.

Rachel walked into the theatre, making her way down the soft, carpeted aisle between the seats. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, filling her ears with its rhythmic drumming. The stage loomed in front of her, the house lights were dim and it took her eyes a few moments to adjust from the brightness she had faced outside. There was a familiarity in the air as she sucked in breath, trying desperately to calm her nerves. Though she had never performed in this particular theatre, she held the space in a kind of reverence. A dull click bounced around the walls as a single spotlight flooded a figure on the stage. The young woman had long, black hair, which spilled loosely around her face and cascaded down her shoulders. She faced house left; her expression twisted in agony, then took a few steps towards stage left wringing her hands nervously. As Rachel watched the actress blocking the movements on the stage she couldn't help but wonder if that's what she looked like in that moment. She felt rooted to the spot, eagerly awaiting her own stage directions, while her mind was screaming at her to run, her body was trying to move closer to the stage.

The silence was broken as the girl spoke. Her voice piercing the internal debate Rachel was having in the darkened silence of the house. The sound of gentle notes issuing from a piano, cued the songstress, and her vocals traversed the empty expanse filling Rachel's ears. The breath caught in her throat and she felt winded. She stood statuesque, glimpsing all that she had lost. She choked loudly as her throat constricted and suddenly she was spluttering and fighting for air. She willed her body to move so no one would witness her break down, but the house lights were already on and someone was saying, "Stop, stop."

A man rose from his seat and made his way towards her.

"Rachel, you made it," said Mark. She blinked wildly trying to reorient herself in her current reality. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

Rachel nodded, rubbing her sweaty palms on her pants, her body and mind still in shock.

"This her?" asked a second figure. He looked at her condescendingly as he towered over her, jerking a thumb in her direction. He communicated his distaste and disinterest in her with his stony eyes.

"I thought you were getting me a professional," he remarked.

The insult penetrated through Rachel's shock and she remembered where she was. She pulled herself to her full height and looked the obnoxious director right in his eyes, staring him down with indignation.  
"You want to talk professional?" she said. "That girl up there was sharp on the end phrases, she's going to need some serious vocal training. The blocking was elementary level at best, and instead of a single spotlight, try a more ethereal lighting effect from downstage," she listed off confidently. "The truth is your amateur hour would be _lucky_ to have me."

The director stared at her dumbstruck by her tirade. He extended his hand to shake hers as he said, "You're hired Miss Berry."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait. And apologies for this chapter really. I don't think it's particularly good, and I really struggled with it. I might revisit it if you feel that it is not up to scratch. So please do let me know in your reviews. And please do review! Thanks again.

**A/N2:** Songs used are "Terrified" by Katherine McPhee and Jason Reeves; and "Your Song" as sung in the movie Moulin Rouge.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee or the characters. The plot and extras are mine though.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Quinn's short break in Lima was coming to a close all too soon. She usually only allowed herself a couple of days to spend in her hometown, but she had extended this trip to a full week, having found something worth staying for. She turned a reverent gaze to the prize filling her vision. She relished these moments with blissful joy. The rise and fall of Rachel's chest as she slept soundly, her hair fanned around her in dark tendrils, her face softened and set aglow with the morning light. Her beauty was a storm raging in silence. Quinn loved this new morning ritual she had adopted because of this antithesis. When Rachel was awake the beauty was surging, demanding and like nature, powerful and consuming. During these times Quinn fought for breath, fighting always to keep pace. It was exhilarating. But laying in the softness of this moment now she felt she could really breathe. This was the power of Rachel Berry. She felt a tender ache in her cheeks and realised she had been smiling all through her inner monologue.

Happiness felt almost foreign to Quinn. But that thought set her soul ablaze. She was happy with Rachel. When she was with the supernova, everything else blurred into non-existence. Mundane moments that used to slip by unnoticed and uncelebrated were bathed in dazzling lights, leaving Quinn delirious and grateful. Rachel was life. And Quinn was finally living. She felt emotion well inside of her at the confession. She felt as though she had been laying dormant, yet to awaken to true passion. She had set her heart aside, unwilling to let anyone else truly get close to her.

"I can always feel you staring," said Rachel, her eyes still closed, her voice far away and dreamy.  
Quinn caressed Rachel's cheek with her thumb, wanting to soothe her back to sleep. She wasn't ready for the day to begin and nowhere near ready to leave Rachel's side. She watched Rachel smile and then turn her head to kiss the pad of the thumb that lightly brushed her cheek. She grasped the hand in her own and kissed Quinn's palm and then her wrist. Simple actions such as these filled Quinn with effervescent butterflies that rose through her body and sent tingling sensations across her skin.

"I love you Rachel," she said. Rachel's brown eyes suddenly focused on her.  
"Why are you sad?" she asked anxiously. Her brow furrowed and all evidence of her peaceful sleep vanished from her features. She entwined her fingers with Quinn's, still looking at her with concerned eyes.

"I'm not sad, it's just that," she paused and drew breath. "Have you given any thought to the future?" She slowly deposited each word into the air, unsure of what Rachel's reaction would be. Her mind kept flashing back to her previous rejection by the brunette when they were in New York.

"What do you mean?" she asked apprehensively.

"Nothing, it's not important," said Quinn, her voice deflated. There was a lull in the conversation while both women sifted through their thoughts.

"I think about our future all the time, Quinn. I'm a little embarrassed by how much I actually think about it," said Rachel.

"What do you think, exactly?" she asked, trying to coax more information from her girlfriend to ascertain whether or not they were on the same page.

"I just sort of," she paused, a smile spreading across her face as she shook her head. Quinn noted the pink blush climbing into Rachel's cheeks and smiled at her hesitant answer. "Most of the time I picture us living together, and building a life together and being," she laughed lightly at this juncture. "We're deliriously happy. We have a beautiful apartment that's always full of light. We dance like we did in the kitchen back in New York. We have a full life, and we love each other."

Quinn's heart beat faster in her chest as she pictured the life Rachel drew for them in her mind. Quinn could see those moments vividly in her head. She wanted stability and permanence. She wanted family and love. Rachel felt like home, and this is what she wanted most of all.

"And other times?" she hedged, waiting for the inevitable blow that would shatter the perfection in her mind.

"Other times I worry about my independence," she answered. Quinn's body stiffened as she absorbed the blow. "I want to be able to stand on my own again, like I used to. I don't want to be reliant on you, Quinn, I want to be your equal."

"Are you saying that I don't treat you like an equal?" asked Quinn; she was on the defensive now, fighting to keep her voice under control.

"That's not what I'm saying," said Rachel. She sighed while she turned the words over in her head. "I just don't want to be your charity case."

It felt like an icy slap across the face as the words flew from Rachel's mouth and into Quinn's ears. Quinn slid her hand down her face and huffed a breath.

"I don't know how else to show you that I'm here for you, forever. Not out of some sense of charity," she answered quietly. Quinn unceremoniously ripped the blankets off her body and slipped into her shorts. "I'm going to have a shower and get ready, I have a plane to catch," she announced curtly before shutting herself in the bathroom and turning on the water. Rachel stared after her but said nothing.

The water ran over her, scalding her porcelain skin and igniting it in a rosy tinge. Quinn berated herself for her hasty exit. She didn't want to have a melt down in front of Rachel, but she couldn't help but feel betrayed by the brunette's words. 'Charity case' looped in her mind, like a record player set to build her inner tension. She thought they'd been building something special together, now she was left feeling like some kind of experimental fling. The rational side of Quinn tried to argue that Rachel was justified in trying to establish a sense of independence. It wasn't that Rachel didn't love her; she simply wanted to rectify that part of her life where she felt unstable. It was the emotional side of Quinn that was running rampant. She wasn't used to putting herself out there and she felt vulnerable. She thought it was worth it because Rachel felt the same way about her, but now she wasn't sure that was the case. She turned the water off and stood in the shower, listening to the last of the water filter down the drain. The steam swirled all around her and she huffed a breath to mingle with the dancing clouds. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, securing it around herself. She would've preferred to dress in the bathroom, but in her haste she had forgotten to bring in a change of clothes. She sighed heavily and using a hand to swipe at the condensation on the mirror, she looked at her reflection.

"Get it together Fabray," she scolded herself.

Rachel had made the bed and sat crossed legged on its edge. Her head was downcast, leaving stray vines of her hair to dangle haphazardly over her face. Quinn leaned against the doorjamb, resting her head against the wood, and surveyed the captor of her heart with mixed emotions. Her thoughts mimicked the escaping steam from the bathroom, curling through the space in her head, weaving anxiety and displacement into her being. They remained silent while the steam dissipated, leaving only an invisible layer of discomfort, punctuated by two thrumming hearts.

"I'm sorry I upset you." It was Rachel who spoke first. She didn't lift her head to assess the damage she had caused. She had felt the shift in Quinn while they were in bed. She felt the tensing of her muscles and the cold radiating off the walls she was quick to erect.

"I know," said Quinn. She struggled to keep her eyes off the petite body on the bed. She wanted to comfort her, to feel her warmth in her arms; she wanted to feel whole again. But more than that, she wanted all those feelings to be real.

"You've turned to ice again," she said quietly.

Quinn closed her eyes against the comment. She didn't want it to be true. "I have a hard time being vulnerable. And I feel a little like that now. Like you were playing games with me," she trailed off.

"Stop it!" Rachel's voice sounded shrill as it bounced around the room. Quinn's head snapped up and she regarded the tempest before her. "I don't want to fight with you Quinn."

Quinn narrowed her hazel eyes. "Well it's a little late for that," she spat. "What is it with you? Why won't you just commit?"

"I never said I wasn't going to commit, I simply said that I wanted to re-establish my own person before I did so. A relationship is supposed to be equal, Quinn."

"You know how it would be equal, Rachel? If we actually got to spend more than a week together. If we weren't practising some kind of time-share relationship." She felt her anger steadily rising through her body and she paced the floor as she spoke, working her frustration into the carpet with each step. "Do you not want to be with me? Have I served my purpose? Am I only good for a few romps in bed before you discard me until the next time the need arises?" Her voice sounded strained in her own ears and she realised she was crying. She suddenly felt Rachel's hands on either side of her face. The brunette was staring up at her with imploring eyes.

"God no baby, that's not how I feel at all," she whispered.

"I want to give you everything you need. You wouldn't have to worry about anything. I have money and," she choked as she sobbed, "I want to keep you safe and take care of you."

Rachel held Quinn's head up, forbidding her to break eye contact as she caught the tears falling steadily from her eyes. "I know baby, I know," she whimpered. "But I want to be worthy of everything you bestow upon me. I want to feel like I deserve you. All of you," she said. "Your beauty," she whispered as she kissed her lips. "Your generosity," she placed another kiss on her lips. "Your time. And most of all your love," she whispered, brushing her lips against Quinn's. The sobs eased off with each touch and Quinn melted at the gentle reverence in Rachel's voice. "I know you'd give me all those things regardless of what I do. But that's not fair to you. You deserve an equal, Quinn, and I want to be that person."

Rachel's thumb slid back and forth over her cheek, sending tiny shocks down Quinn's spine. The blond was numbed by the explanation being offered to her. All this talk of being equal and worthy made her bristle. Her parents had always made her work for their affection and that wasn't what real love was about. She wouldn't subject Rachel to the same ideology.

"I have to be mine before I can be yours. Even if all I want to be is yours," said Rachel fervently. She gripped Quinn's face a little harder, jolting the blond back into herself. "Believe me," she pleaded, "All I want to be is yours."

Quinn surrendered. She let the words infiltrate her and allowed them to wash away the sandcastles of doubt she had built in her mind. Rachel felt that all-important shift again. The walls crashed down leaving Quinn unguarded. She swallowed the tightness in her throat and did the most natural thing she could think of. She opened her mouth and sang. It was hushed and delicate, meant only for Quinn's ears.  
"You've set it again my hearts in motion, every word feels like a shooting star," she paused and brought her mouth to Quinn's collar bone, kissing the taut skin and making the taller woman shudder. "I'm at the edge of my emotion, watching the shadows burning in the dark," Rachel sang, pulling the towel free from the body before her. The combination of Rachel's voice, singing the fear she so desperately felt, and her body being as exposed as her heart had been, caused Quinn to go weak at the knees. Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist, her fingers rubbing at the stray droplets of water on her back. "And I'm in love, and I'm terrified," she crooned, "For the first time and the last time, in my only life." Quinn crushed her lips against Rachel's, pouring all her passion and heat into the kiss. Rachel kissed her back, gripping her tightly as she pulled them back towards the bed. She eased Quinn down, looking into the hazel eyes that bore the soul she felt destined to love. "I love you, Quinn," she said. They fell into each other as time and space fell away.

She had no sense of time as she continued to walk. She let her feet wander with no purposeful direction while her mind did the same. Quinn was halfway back to Los Angeles by now and the absence of her made Rachel weary. She hugged her arms tighter around herself, warding off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. She thought about independence. More to the point, she thought about whether her want of independence was justified if it came at the expense of a certain blond. Independence was freedom. And Rachel knew she had never felt freer than when she was hovering over Quinn's lithe body, hands fisted tightly in her golden locks and staring into the fluctuating galaxy disguised in hazel eyes.

She took in her surroundings and found herself in a park. The weight of her thoughts lifted as she watched the children running and playing. They giggled and laughed, chasing one another across the grass, pushing each other on the swings, and riding the seesaw. She noticed a little blond haired girl, sitting on the grass and playing with Barbie dolls. The sight brought a smile to her face, instantly drawing a picture of Quinn in her mind. She'd left that small detail out of her description of their future together. The sparkling engagement ring that sat above the wedding band on her finger, each refracting the light that flooded through the window, while Quinn held her hand securely in hers as they danced. In the background a soft, musical giggle drifted through the air as their daughter watched them from a distance. This thought filled Rachel with peace. She knew that if she could obtain this future she would be happy and whole. But her past was a shadow looming over her. It threatened to block out all the glorious light she wanted to have in her life. She did not want independence from Quinn; the blond had done nothing but assure Rachel that she could do anything she wanted to do. She wanted to be independent of her former self, her addiction and her shame. _The only person holding onto that part of yourself is you_, she thought bitterly. She sighed at her incompetence and dragged herself up from the bench. It was early but she started making her way towards the theatre for rehearsal. She took one last look at the little girl on the grass and smiled at her. The little girl smiled back, waving her Barbie at Rachel before returning to her fun.

As expected there was no sign of the director or the cast when Rachel walked into the Lima Community Theatre. She soaked up the heavy silence and breathed in a lungful air. Being in this hallowed space was cathartic and the thoughts that had previously been swirling around in her head dissipated as soon as she had crossed the threshold. This was her domain.

She strolled onto the stage and looked out over the empty seats. Never again would she feel the vibration of a crowd applauding her performance, or feel that rush of adrenaline as the audience anxiously awaited her opening line. She called forth all those sensations and felt the urge to sing; to recapture that misplaced part of her soul.

"My gift is my song, and this one's for you." Rachel sang the opening line and felt it reverberate through the empty space surrounding her. She closed her eyes and felt the lyrics as she sang them, pouring all her emotion into the music. She owned every inch of the stage, traversing the smooth surface and drawing energy from it. "Hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is now you're in the world." She gained confidence with each note, fully engulfed in the moment. Her feet were nimble as she started to dance, her motions as unbridled as her joy, and fluid as the music that coursed through her body. The last note hung in the air and Rachel stood centre stage, eyes glistening with rapture while her chest heaved up and down. The sound of slow clapping brought her back to reality, and she whipped her head around to lock onto the source of the applause. When the figure moved into the light, Rachel recognised that it was Jason McArthur, the director of the play she was working on. He made his way towards the stage and she instantly felt self-conscious.

"Listen Miss Berry, I don't know why you're wasting your talent behind the scenes," he said, gazing at her with a bemused expression on his face. "But I do know that I want you in this show. You're my new lead, congratulations."

"What? No. I was just," she stammered. "What about Jessica?" Rachel sputtered in surprise. She felt like she'd been caught cheating on a diet, and her face flushed with embarrassment.

"You said so yourself, the girl needs a lot of work. You on the other hand," he said as he twirled his hand through the air, "You have something." And as suddenly as he had appeared he was gone again, leaving a dumbstruck Rachel to process the scene and the conflicting feelings that were causing butterflies and razors to dance in her abdomen.

Quinn Fabray was not indecisive. Quinn Fabray never juggled her phone between nervous hands. Quinn Fabray didn't rewrite a text message seven times in an attempt to say the right thing. But this was exactly what she had been doing for the past half an hour. Her hazel eyes pierced the screen of her cell phone as she rearranged the words she wanted to say to Rachel in her head again. Her ring tone shattered her concentration and caused her to jump, flinging the phone from her grasp in her surprise. It bounced on the sofa cushion and Quinn hastily snatched the noisy item and checked the display. A private number flashed on the screen and she composed herself, slipping into her professional skin.

"Quinn Fabray," she answered.

"Fabray, long time no hear," replied the caller. Quinn's lips pulled up in a smirk.

"Well, well, well," she said, "Garrett? To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"That's Detective Garrett now," he grunted.

"Congratulations."

"Yeah, yeah. I earned it. So listen, we checked out that guy like you asked," he said.

Quinn raised her eyebrows, the words sparking her immediate interest. She'd been trying to get more information on Tony Martinez and had asked her old contact in the NYPD for some help. "Yeah? What did you find out?" she asked.

"Small time stuff mostly. Possession and some assault charges. He got off though," said Garrett.

"Not surprising. Did you check out the bar like I suggested?"

"Yeah, we watched it for a while. Typical prostitution ring. Captain gave us the go ahead for the sting operation. He thinks if we can get Martinez, he'll lead us to bigger fish."

"How big?" asked Quinn, unable to contain her excitement. She smiled at the reappearance of her old habit. It had been years since she'd worked in criminal law.

Garrett chuckled quietly. "We miss your killer instinct around here," he said.

"There are enough killers on your streets already," she shot back. She didn't miss being that close to the underbelly of the city that never sleeps. Once she had thought she was doing the community a great service, but as time wore on she felt like she wasn't really making a difference at all. For every criminal that was put in prison, another five would take his place. She smiled bitterly.

"Too comfy in your office chair?" he asked.

"I am comfortable," she admitted, "Also, the view's a lot better."

"Yeah, yeah. While I'd love to sit around and shoot the shit with you, but some of us have real jobs. I'll let keep you in the loop."

"Thanks Garrett. Goodbye."

"Bye, Quinn."

Rachel grabbed her purse from the seat and hastily fished her cell phone from its depths.

"Great work today, Rachel. It's refreshing to work with such a professional," called Jason.

"Thank you," she replied, shooting him a quick glance before turning her attention back to her phone. She sighed heavily when she saw she had no new messages. Her heart sank. She hadn't heard from Quinn since she left and she was worried that the blond had not fully accepted her explanation following the fight they'd had earlier that day. She gingerly made her way to the theatre's ladies' room to freshen up. The rehearsal had been exciting but rigorous. Trying to learn the blocking for the scenes and running lines had really taken a lot out of her, but she swelled with pride. It had been a good rehearsal and she loved the feeling of being part of an ensemble again. She heard voices as she walked down the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. "No way, you still owe me for the last time," said one voice.

"And I told you I'm good for it," said another.

She came across the two figures as they wrestled against each other. She recognised Nick, the stagehand; and the other was Carla; a cast member. She wondered what the pair was fighting over and approached cautiously, but they didn't seem to notice her. As she passed, a small bag fell to the floor at Rachel's feet. She stooped to pick it up, almost bumping heads with Nick.

"You dropped this," Rachel started to say, but the sentence died in her throat as she recognized the powdery contents of the bag.

"Yeah, it's just," Nick began to say when he heard someone approaching.

"Nick, you back here? I wanted to adjust the rigging," said Jason, as he rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway. Nick thrust his hands in his pockets and eyed both Rachel and Carla nervously. Rachel remembered that Nick was Jason's nephew, and realised that their current situation would not go down well with the director. She clasped her hand tightly around the baggie, hiding it from view. It would not look good for her to be caught up in this mess either. Carla sensed the danger and made a hasty retreat, announcing that she had to meet with someone and was running late. She swiftly made her way down the corridor, passing Jason as he came towards Rachel and Nick.

"Rachel, what are you still doing here?" smiled Jason. "Nick's not giving you a hard time is he? Pretty girl like you," he grinned.

"No, he was just saying hello," Rachel lied. "I should probably get going," she said, feeling her face growing warm under Jason's scrutiny.

"Bye Rachel, don't worry about the gum. I'll pick up some more later," said Nick smoothly. Rachel nodded, acknowledging Nick's accomplished lying ability. She all but ran down the narrow hallway, feeling the demon breathing down her neck.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Really? Don't own, don't sue. Plot is mine. Obviously.

**A/N: **Ok, so sorry this has taken so long. I can't really explain it. This chapter sort of maybe broke me a little bit, it was too close to home. And I'm sorry it's such a short chapter in comparison. But I am working on the next one right now. Anyway, enjoy and please review. Thanks

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Rachel had pounded her way up the stairs and into her bedroom without registering a single step of her run back home. Her windswept hair mirrored the disharmony between her thoughts and feelings, messily strewn about her shoulders, and her constricted chest strained against each breath she drew. Her hand ached and felt like it was on fire. The powder seemed to burn the skin of her palm as she clenched it tighter, causing the tendons and muscles of her fist to scream out at the abuse. She slammed the door and stalked her room like a caged animal, focusing on her breath filtering in and out of her lungs, chest heaving and mind racing. She didn't want to risk relinquishing her vice-like grip on the contents of her hand, unsure of where to put the demonic powder, and unwilling to let her eyes gaze upon the temptation. _Why did I bring it home? Why didn't I discard it? _The soft hairs on the back of her neck prickled with anxiety as the darkness in her mind answered for her. _Don't you want it?_

She paced the floor whirling around and pacing in another direction each time she met a wall, her closet, her dressing table. Thoughts swirled mercilessly in her head. _I don't have a syringe. I don't want this. Just one more hit. Don't do this. You're stronger than this. One more hit. I don't have a syringe. The drugstore's still open. I don't want this. Get rid of it. Use it. One more time won't hurt. What are you doing? Stop this. I don't have a syringe. _She heard the mingled voices of Quinn, Santana and her fathers. Sometimes they were commanding, sometimes desperate, as her mind worked to argue against the need blazing within her while her fist curled around the heroin in her hand.

Her head throbbed from the intrusion of so many voices and thoughts. She shut her eyes against the electric pulses shooting from her hand to the need in her head. Then two pain-filled hazel eyes burned into the chaos of her mind.

"I have Quinn." Her voice sounded foreign to her as she tried to adjust from the sounds of her thoughts to the external audio she produced. The pain in her chest lessened at the knowledge. "I have Quinn, and I don't need this," she said, her voice strangled by the tightness of her throat. She blinked away the tears pooling in her eyes. How foolish she had been to forget that she had something so much better in her life now.

She raised her right hand, opening it palm up to examine the contents that felt lead-like in her clammy hand. She shook her head at the demon clawing at the cage she had locked him in. She chewed on her bottom lip as her will battled his.

"I remember who I am now," she told him, "And you've got nothing on me." She walked to the bathroom, her hand free of the tension it had previously held; the powder-filled bag now just that: powder.

She crossed the threshold as her bedroom door flew open and Quinn's voice came spilling out of her mouth, apologies and regrets on her lips. Rachel whirled around to face the frazzled blond, her hands flying up to clutch at her chest in surprise. The motion dislodged the small plastic bag in her hand and it landed on the floor surprising both occupants with its seemingly deafening impact.  
"Quinn, what are you doing here?" Rachel gasped, inwardly cursing the guilt chiselled into her voice.  
"I came back," Quinn replied slowly, her voice breathless. Her eyes stayed glued to the evidence burning a hole in the carpet between them. "Is that–" she let the sentence plunge uselessly into the depths of hell, her heart inexorably following suit. She knew what it was. She closed her eyes, flexing her fists at her sides and willing herself to breathe evenly.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice struggled against the tension in the air. "Baby, can I just explain?" The moment the cliché left her mouth she regretted it. She'd seen characters in movies use the same line and not once did it work out in their favour. She steeled herself; waiting for whatever rage fuelled words would be speared into her. She knew she deserved them. What the hell had she been thinking?

"Okay, okay," Quinn whispered hoarsely. She sniffed and rubbed hastily at the tears streaming from her eyes as she struggled out of her jacket. Rachel was frightened to see Quinn visibly shaking, her eyes glassy pools that would not look at her. Quinn tossed the jacket aside and all but ripped off the sleeve of the blouse she was wearing in her haste to expose her arm. "Okay, okay." She kept repeating the words like a mantra. Rachel stared at her, unsure of what to do and unable to move from her current position. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. She didn't know what was going on. It felt like she was a spectator in the nightmarish sequence of events that was unfolding before her eyes. When hazel eyes finally turned on Rachel, she couldn't find any trace of Quinn in the tempestuous orbs pinning her with such agony and bewilderment.

"We're doing it together," said Quinn, her voice breaking on the utterance. She stalked towards Rachel, her arm bared and her jaw clenched tightly. Rachel's face paled as understanding dawned on her.

Coming unstuck from the floor she collided with Quinn before the blond reached the patch of carpet she had been targeting. Rachel grabbed hold of Quinn's wrists in an effort to restrain her, but Quinn jerked her arms away forcefully, choking on the violent sobs she fought desperately to control.

"Quinn no, you don't understand," Rachel pleaded, despair bleeding into the words as her own tears came hot and fast down her face. The pain in Quinn's eyes and the way she struggled against her touch like it burned, caused a chasm to spread through Rachel's chest, tearing at her heart as Quinn tore away from her.

"What's the matter Rachel? You don't want to share your stash with me?" Quinn spat, putting distance between herself and the brunette as she fired the words at her.

"No, I don't want to share it with you. It's not mine," Rachel replied, her voice soft and begging for understanding. "Please, I wasn't going to–" Rachel began but Quinn cut her off.

"It's good enough for _you_ isn't it?" she snarled. "So come on, let's do it. You want this so badly, and I don't understand it. So we'll do it together," Quinn screamed, fury and desperation fighting for dominance in her voice. "If you're going to spiral into oblivion then I'm coming with you!" she yelled.

Sacrifice. It was all Quinn Fabray knew. And if she couldn't stop Rachel from using then she would follow her to hell just to stay with her.

The words were a white-hot knife plunged deep into Rachel's chest, nicking the fissure of anger she'd been working to force shut. She desperately wished for just twenty more seconds. She'd spent twenty seconds too long witlessly debating a choice that was never really a choice. She didn't want to use anymore. She wouldn't risk losing Quinn. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Quinn stoop to retrieve the heroin from the floor.

"Don't," she hissed. The sound of Rachel's voice, a clear mixture of ice and acid, caused Quinn's hand to cease its motion. Her delicate fingers hovered over the powder bag, her body frozen by the alien voice issuing from lips that were once so familiar. "You might not believe me but if you had arrived twenty seconds later you would've seen me flushing that shit," she continued in the same voice. Quinn turned her head to regard the small body with the voice of a demon. Her eyes took in her dishevelled appearance, the way her body quivered with unspoken emotion and radiated anger that was almost palatable on Quinn's tongue as it darted out to moisten her dry lips in anxiety. They locked eyes, a violent storm brewing between shades of hazel and chocolate.

"So you say," said Quinn, indifference laced with the anger she felt at being lied to.

"Do you want me to prove it? Here, you can watch me flush it right now," Rachel spat defensively, making her way over to where Quinn was crouched. The blond snatched up the bag and brought herself up to her full height.

"And what would that prove exactly, Rachel?" she asked, "How easy it is for you to get more?"

"No! I don't want it, Quinn. This whole thing was just a mistake, I want to explain wh–"

"I don't believe you," she interrupted, shaking her head slowly from side to side. It was broken and hollow sounding. The end of her sentence pinched tightly as the tears cascaded down her face. Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times, winded and wounded.

"Why would you? I'm just a junkie whore, right?" Rachel said bitterly.

The room fell silent as death laid its hand on their relationship. Both women stood resolute, emotions reigned in and only flickering in their downcast eyes. "I got the lead today," said Rachel. "Jason, the director, he replaced Jessica with me." Quinn shifted momentarily, halting her need to cross the floor and embrace Rachel. Rachel looked up hopefully for a split second before she realised that Quinn wasn't going to do much more. She continued to talk to the entrenched blond, hoping that she was listening. "After rehearsal I went to the restroom to freshen up and Nick and Carla were arguing and I saw something fall on the ground as I passed and I picked it up." Her voice was small as regret coated her rushed words. She needed to explain herself before Quinn walked out of her life forever. Her throat dried up at the thought. She shook her head, refocusing herself on the story. She explained to Quinn that she didn't know what it was until it was too late; that Jason had come down the hall before she had a chance to return Nick's stash; lastly she described her inner turmoil when she'd returned home. Rachel was honest. She spoke of the terror and the need that gripped her when she realised she'd brought it home, the demon stalking her every step from the hallway to the bathroom where she had planned to destroy it.

"Seconds, that's what we're fighting about right now, Quinn," she said remorsefully. "A few seconds and I'd be in your arms right now, instead of pleading with you across this immeasurable distance." She took a cautious step, dipping her head down to catch Quinn's eyes, willing her to meet her gaze. "Please believe me. I would never jeopardise what you and I have."

She watched the doubt play across Quinn's features, her heart slowly breaking when the blond remained impassive. Quinn lifted her eyes from the floor and regarded her with a wounded expression. Rachel crossed the distance between them and locked her eyes with Quinn's. Quinn looked away and crossing her arms over her chest she set her lips in a thin line. Her hazel eyes flickered from the door to the piercing brown eyes before her, then back to the door.

For Quinn it was more than mere seconds they were fighting about. She was caught in a tug of war between wanting to believe the brunette and needing to protect herself from a life of lies. She didn't know if Rachel was lying or not, her explanation was sincere and it seemed to be an honest mistake. However, she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal from her system, it made her blood run cold.

Rachel lifted her hand to touch Quinn's cheek, her other hand coming to rest on her hip, and whispered, "Please." Quinn unconsciously closed her eyes at the touch, leaning into the hand that pressed against her skin. She wanted to bury herself inside of Rachel, to go back to the feeling she had when she had woken up this morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. "Please," begged Rachel again, "It was a mistake."

Quinn unfolded her arms and wrapped them around Rachel's waist. She pressed her lips against Rachel's, a kiss so tender and so full of heartbreak she could feel herself unravelling against her. She felt Rachel shiver in her arms, soft tremors rippling through her body, and she knew that Rachel knew this was a goodbye kiss.

She pulled back slightly, brushing her lips against the softness of her mouth, savouring the tingling sensation that fluttered over them. Rachel relinquished her hold on Quinn, her body numbed by the pain of pending separation. She didn't turn to watch Quinn leave, she didn't want the memory of her retreating back locked into her mind to further torture herself. This last kiss would be enough for that. It was only after she heard the front door close in finality that she saw the heroin on the floor where Quinn had let it fall. And this time she didn't hesitate, stalking towards the bathroom she ripped open the bag and poured the sickening contents down the sink, flushing it down the drain with a torrential blast from the faucet. She gripped the sink and sobbed, her tears mixing with the powder and water circling into the darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: I own this plot and this world. I don't own the characters or Glee and stuff and stuff.

**A/N: **WHAT? Another update? Has the world gone mad? No, I just happened to pick up a muse recently. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I don't know what you guys will think honestly. But I kind of really love this chapter. That probably means it will suck though. Anyway, please read and review. No really, review. I need it this time.

**Warning**: There is rough!sex in this chapter. If you're not comfortable with it, then I guess you shouldn't read it. But yeah. IDK. I guess just read at your own risk? Kthnxbai!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

Quinn pulled into the first motel she passed. It was a miracle she had managed to get there in one piece, almost unable to make out the other cars and traffic lights through the blur of tears. She took no notice of the condition of her rented room, though the stale air tickled the back of her throat, already scratchy and tight from her sobbing. Her tears were relentless. She had stopped whimpering but her cheeks never dried, the gaping hole in her chest struggling to knit back together as she sucked in breath. It was eerily quiet in the room, her ragged breathing and the distant buzzing of the neon sign outside the only intruders. Her mind was a mix of cacophonous thoughts, all screaming to be heard above one another.

Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, her hazel eyes burning and unfocused, her hands clenched around the material of her pants. She searched out a tiny corner of her mind where she could get away from the noise bubbling within. Jeffrey would need those files by 10am tomorrow, and the _TransCystems_ meeting would have to be postponed if she couldn't get someone else to cover for her. She felt the seesaw balance itself out a little more as she thought of work. She could control work. At work she had neat stacks of files, ordered documents, appointments and calendars. She had a schedule to adhere to, a list of accounts to focus on, a system to keep track of all the things that needed to be done.

_I should be in LA. _

_I should call Santana. _

_I should call Rachel. _

_Go back. _

_No. _

_I should be in LA. _

She idly wondered what the time was. She scoffed at herself; what difference did it make anyway? Twenty seconds. Could it really make that much difference? She replayed the scene in her head again; the thoughts simmering down to a lower decibel to watch the memory play back like a drive-in movie. Rachel's eyes, those deep, brown eyes, awash with misery and regret. The fear that wrapped around her as she described the moment she faced up to her addiction. She wondered what the brunette was doing now. Would Rachel have used again just to spite her? Would she have used again because Quinn gave her the excuse. Would she be lying somewhere between heaven and hell, spinning into a warped world where nothing else mattered except the high flooding her veins? Or worse, would Rachel have overdosed? Could she be sprawled on her bathroom floor, dead and alone?

The vision of Rachel's limp body face down on the cold, hard floor squeezed the last of breath of life from her heart. _Oh God_, she thought. _What have I done?_

She choked on the bile rising in her throat as her mind strung together all the terror she felt; blinding her with visuals of the time she had found Rachel in her dingy apartment two months ago. She couldn't describe the intensity of that moment, the feelings that cut jagged shapes into her with their potency. She never wanted to find Rachel in that situation again. She felt sickened by the thought, but also disgusted with herself, her cowardice. The words she'd let tumble so freely from her mouth about always being there for the woman she loved, about Rachel being able to beat her addiction, about them building a life together; Quinn had rendered them worthless. _At the first sign of trouble you ran_, she thought angrily, _you couldn't listen to her, and you didn't believe her_. Quinn shook her head thinking about the depths of her stupidity. She needed to fix this. She grabbed her keys from the bedside table and moved towards the door. She hoped she wasn't too late.

* * *

Rachel didn't know how long she had been sitting on the cold, tiled floor of her bathroom after her legs had given out from under her. When she thought she couldn't shed another tear, a fresh onslaught dragged their way down her cheeks. Her lips tingled where Quinn had pressed that kiss to them. _Our last kiss_, she corrected herself. She tried to fight for the anger that had arisen during the argument, knowing that it would be more helpful than the despair she was currently drowning in. Anger would make her get up, wash her face and try to forget about Quinn Fabray. Anger would harden the shattered pieces of her heart, forcing it to beat when all she wanted was for everything to still. She hugged her knees closer to her chest, trying to quash the dull thump of the mangled muscle beneath them. Why hadn't Quinn believed her? She knew the fight they'd had earlier that morning hadn't resolved itself in a permanent manner. And truth be told, she was still confused as to the blond's overreaction over her want of independence. Her mind tried uselessly to make sense of all that had happened. Yes, she had a made a mistake in bringing the heroin home in the first place, but she didn't use it. Yes, it had taken her a little while to let go of the substance she had been abusing, but she had let it go. Now Quinn had let her go. _No, not without a fight_, she thought distantly. She seized that one thought in a desperate grasp. _Not without a fight_. She pulled herself to her feet and glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She didn't recognize herself amidst her swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks, her wild hair and the forlorn expression engraved in her features. She wasn't herself without Quinn. She couldn't be who she wanted to be without the woman she loved.

She rushed downstairs, grabbing her father's car keys from the bowl on the end table in the living room, thankful that they had trusted her with the use of a car. She didn't know where she would start to look for Quinn, but she fiercely hoped she had not gone straight to the airport. She hoped that Quinn had been too distraught to drive very far and settled on a methodical approach to finding her. She would start at the closest motel in the area and radiate the search from there. Gripping the steering wheel tightly in her hands she hoped she wasn't too late.

* * *

Quinn yanked the door open and in her haste collided with a figure striding past her door. "Sorry," she mumbled, barely glancing at whoever it was.

"I found you," whispered Rachel. Quinn registered the face peering up at her. Rachel looked like hell, but she was standing there. She was alive. Her pulse quickened and then fell flat.

"How did you find me?"

"Providence?" offered Rachel weakly. When the blond raised her eyebrow in question Rachel shook her head. "Don't ask me to explain, I just figured you wouldn't have gone far. And I guess some force drew me here. Also, I'm a little psychic, Quinn."

Quinn couldn't fight the smile that tugged at her lips. _Still Rachel after all_, she thought. Rachel hung her head and softly asked the question that had severed her soul. "Why did you leave me?"

Quinn swallowed the lump in her throat but could do nothing about the guilt that consumed her whole being. She stepped back against the door, pushing it wide and gesturing for Rachel to step into the pathetic room. She watched the tiny brunette move past her looking fragile and broken.

They shifted uncomfortably, mirroring each other's unsure stance. Their bodies longed to cling to one another, hands wringing in anxiety as each waited for the other to make the first move. Tension met silence in the stony room until Rachel's impatience with Quinn's stoic demeanour overpowered her. "Well?" she hedged angrily, "Are you going to answer me or not?"

Quinn bristled at the venom in her words. Her own anger flared in response. "You know why, Rachel! You broke my trust!" she spat back.

"I did _not_ use!" the brunette yelled, moving swiftly to stand in front of Quinn's guarded form. "Strip me, check me, I don't care! Just do whatever you have to do to get the truth!" She grabbed Quinn's wrists and forced them to the buttons on her shirt. Quinn winced at the implication of the statement. She wasn't Rachel's keeper. She didn't want to have to check her body for needle marks, question Rachel's whereabouts and keep tabs on her. What kind of life would that be for either of them? She fisted the material of Rachel's shirt in her trembling hands as wave after wave of emotion lashed against her. What was it about this woman that kept her emotions so embroiled and close to the surface?

"What?" Rachel pushed again. "Are you angry? Are you hurt? Tell me what it is, Quinn. But don't just fucking stand there and do NOTHING!"

Something in Quinn Fabray snapped. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she forced the smaller woman against the door. Rachel grunted as the air whooshed out of her lungs at the contact of the wood against her back. Fear flashed in her eyes momentarily as she regarded Quinn, the blond pinning her to the door as much with her eyes as her hands. Quinn's eyes were a haze of pain, fear and disbelief. Her lower lip trembled as an emotional battle surged within her.

"You can hurt me if you want to, Quinn." The whispered words fell from Rachel's mouth before she knew what she was saying, and Quinn didn't give her any time to process where it came from.

She pressed Rachel painfully against the door and sucked at the flesh of her neck. She placed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the tanned column before clamping down hard with her teeth. Rachel cried out in ecstasy-laced pain. The sound sent a bolt of pleasure to Quinn's centre and moisture pooled around the slick heat between her legs. She moved onto another spot, not bothering to soothe the bite with a tender tongue. Grabbing the split of the brunette's shirt, Quinn ripped the fabric, scattering buttons around the room and exposing Rachel's bra. She yanked the material over her breasts and groped one of the soft mounds in her hand, earning a low groan from the woman pinned against her. Rachel's hands which had been flattened against the door now moved to the button of her jeans, Quinn smiled against her skin as Rachel tried to tug off the garment. She sucked Rachel's nipple into her mouth, flicking her tongue against the hardened peak. Rachel threw her head to the side and moaned Quinn's name, begging her to touch her. A firm bite of her breast made her hiss, alerting the brunette as to whom was in charge. When Quinn was satisfied with the malpractice of her teeth on Rachel's flesh, she raked her nails down the plane of her stomach, causing her to whimper as redness streaked down the path they made. She shoved her hand down the front of Rachel's underwear, cupping her heat and gasping at the feel of her sodden centre.

Quinn immediately plunged three fingers roughly into Rachel, who was so far gone from the waiting and pain fuelled pleasure she could barely moan Quinn's name. A few harsh thrusts were all it took for rapture to uncoil within her. Her body convulsed between the door and Quinn's body, her back bowed as she arched into Quinn's touch.

Her knees buckled and she sunk to the floor breathing hard. She gazed up at Quinn whose hooded hazel eyes turned even darker with lust. Rachel reached up and tugged at the button of her pants, fumbling with the zipper until she could jerk the material down Quinn's long, pale legs. Quinn's arousal had soaked into her panties, but Rachel only glanced at this evidence briefly before attaching her mouth to Quinn's soaked folds. Quinn opened her mouth to emit a keening cry as Rachel's teeth grazed her clit before swirling her tongue over it.

"Fuck, baby… yes," moaned Quinn. Elongating each word as the pleasure painted thick warm strokes up and down her body. Quinn fisted her hands in Rachel's mane, yanking on the locks to direct her lover's talented mouth where she wanted it. Rachel sucked and nibbled on her heat, pushing her tongue inside of Quinn and causing the blond to growl and mewl loudly. Her hips bucked against Rachel's mouth, allowing Quinn to set the rhythm she needed, while Rachel feasted hungrily on her essence. Her tongue swirled, flicked and probed, driving Quinn closer and closer to release. When her mouth enveloped the little bundle of nerves and bit down briefly before soothing her with a generous tongue Quinn unravelled against her, crying out indistinguishable words as her walls clenched tightly.

Quinn wrenched Rachel's head away from her before she collapsed from the bliss still being meted out by her lover's exuberant mouth. Rachel's hooded eyes stared at her hungrily; still licking Quinn's taste from her lips while both women sat on the floor and panted. When the blond had collected her thoughts enough to form words she grunted, "Bed."

The deep midnight blue of early morning found the fatigued lovers tangled on the bed. Rachel nestled into Quinn's side, her head on her shoulder and one leg hooked over the other's hip, while the blond stroked her matted hair from her forehead, lost in thought.

"We can't just keep fucking our problems away," said Quinn dryly. Rachel raised her eyebrows at the blond's choice of language. "What else would you call what just happened in here?" she retorted.

A blush crept up Rachel's cheeks and she nodded, "It definitely wasn't love making," she admitted quietly, acknowledging the sting in her back where the door handle had caught her. She noted the purple bruise forming over her breast, and her stomach stung lightly with Quinn's claw marks. She should feel embarrassed that she allowed Quinn to manhandle her in such a fashion, but she couldn't deny that she had wanted it. She wanted Quinn to hurt her, she felt that she deserved it; she wanted Quinn to unleash all the powerful emotions she always kept so hidden inside herself. Quinn watched Rachel's eyes flickering over the parts of her body she had marked with teeth and nails. She audibly swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry, Rachel." Her voice was soft and regretful. Rachel shook her head.

"I could've stopped you if I wanted to. I know if I had been less," she paused as she selected the word with a smile, "Enthusiastic, you would've ceased immediately."

"Yes, I would've," she said firmly.

They fell into silence again, Quinn sighed deeply and Rachel traced patterns on her stomach with her fingers.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" asked Rachel.

"No, I don't think it is."

"What happens now?"

The child-like quality in her voice almost made Quinn rethink her decision, but they couldn't keep doing this dance over and over again. They had entered this relationship on rocky foundations and anything they built would undoubtedly fall to ruins. They needed time. Time to mend the fractured pieces they both housed and time apart to deal with the repercussions of their decisions. They needed time apart.

"Well, I'm going back to LA and I'm going to make sure that I get that position heading up the office in New York," said Quinn, pausing to ease back the tears that tried to force their way out of her hazel eyes. "And you're going to work on that play and amaze the audience as the lead."

Rachel smiled ruefully. "Will you come see it?"

"I wouldn't miss seeing you shine like that for anything," replied Quinn, hugging the brunette closer to her body. She pressed reverent lips to Rachel's forehead. _Time apart would be good_, she thought. _It's necessary_.

The silence of the night engulfed them and soon both women drifted off to sleep, ignoring the scratching of the cheap sheets against their heated skin and the sudden termination of their relationship.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue. Yay for not-so-original characters... which sort of belong to me. Don't ask. But yes, obviously, Glee characters aren't mine.

**A/N: **Yes, here we are again. I mean, I suck obviously. But you have a chapter finally. No promises about the timeframe of the next update. You have my blessing to stop reading until it's completed. Which is probably smart if you get antsy. I haven't given up on this story, but life is consuming. Anyway, enjoy and as always read and review! They are appreciated! Thanks to everyone who sent me messages urging me to update :) Guilt trips work obviously.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

_Drop your weapon, sir– _

_Shots fired! Shots fired! Move in!_

Quinn folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. Her eyes traced the thick, black font of the headline that read _Two Dead In Drug Bust: Police Crack Sex Ring._ She smirked at the pun. It was finally over. Garrett had given her a brief rundown of the raid as a courtesy. Some drug bent partier had pulled a gun and started shooting when the police had stormed in. He got off a few shots, one of them hitting Tony Martinez in the chest, before the undercover officer took him out. Quinn had a healthy respect for karma. She had wondered how many years a guy like Tony Martinez would get for his crimes, but that had been replaced with a cold sliver of justice at the news of his death. He wouldn't be able to hurt Rachel or anyone ever again.

She closed her eyes as her mind formulated the name in her thoughts, sending a rush of emotion and memories through the fibres of her being. It still hurt. She tried to harden herself against the images she had held onto dearly, knowing that the pain of having them was far less than trying to forget completely. It was good while it lasted. And having the memory of the woman she loved was better than having nothing at all.

This drew her attention to Santana's latest voicemail. "_Fucking flowers again, Fabray? She doesn't want flowers and shit, she wants you, in the fucking audience, like you said you'd be._" She had buried herself in work, picking up extra clients and working longer hours just to keep herself occupied. But she had to come back to her apartment eventually; her boss didn't look too kindly on her sleeping in her office, buried under manila folders and client dossiers. Her work was impeccable so he never bothered to ask about her shifting mood, and Quinn liked that just fine. She would drown herself in work then come home and drown herself in regret and bitterness.

Setting the newspaper aside she eyed the white envelope sitting on the table to her left. Cautiously, she slid her hand over the paper, moving the pads of her fingers over the embossed print spelling out her name. She knew Rachel had ordered this specifically for her. The small burst of gold stars at the end of her name invoking the brunette's giggle on a lazy Sunday afternoon that now seemed like a lifetime ago. She pushed the envelope containing her season pass for the play away dejectedly. It was best that she stayed away.

Rachel stared at the single, white petal between her fingers and sighed. The flowers Quinn had sent were dying, littering her bedroom floor with papery remnants of the once fragrant blooms. On her opening night, Quinn had sent her a beautiful arrangement of pink and lilac orchards that made her heart jump at the sight. When she made her entrance onto the stage she scanned the front rows for the face she longed to see but was struck by disappointment. Quinn had never showed. Not that night, or any subsequent nights since the play had started, and time was running out. She consoled herself with each new bouquet, carting them home after each performance and refusing to throw them out long after they had withered and browned.

When Rachel heard a rustling at the door, her eyes flew open in panic and she planted herself in front of her dresser, which was amassed with flowers, withered stems and wrinkled petals. Santana leaned against the doorjamb shaking air into an empty trash bag. She rolled her eyes disdainfully. "Move it, midget," she barked unsympathetically.

"No, Santana, I will not. You are not to touch these bouquets," Rachel said firmly, hands on her hips and chocolate eyes narrowing into a glare she had picked up from Quinn herself.

"Bouquets?" scoffed Santana. "Berry, have you looked at them? I'm just putting them out of their misery. Besides, it's kind of creepy the way you're hanging onto dead flowers."

Rachel raised her head indignantly, unable to formulate a worthy comeback to the flurry of comments being hurled at her. She had to admit Santana was right. The remains of the flowers did look miserable, and perhaps it was a little pathetic to be holding onto such trivial things. But Quinn had sent them, and it was all she had left of her affection. And what if she never got another bouquet after the show ran its course. The decaying flowers reminded her of their decayed love, but it was theirs none the less, and Rachel wasn't ready to let go.

By this time Santana had already stalked into the room, gathering petals and stems from the floor and filling the trash bag with the mess. She started at the small corner table that housed what used to be tiger lilies and shoved them mercilessly into the bag. Rachel watched soundlessly, hoping that she would leave the contents of the dresser alone.

"Don't you have minions for this?" Rachel asked, scrunching her brow together.

"Yeah, but I have to deal with all of your crazy myself because Quinn won't do it. It's not a job for minions."

"Oh," replied Rachel in surprise, "You're being my friend," she said hesitantly. Santana straightened and dropped the bag on the floor. "Are you going to move?" she asked, nodding her head at the dresser that Rachel was still defending.

"What if she never comes back?" Rachel squeaked.

"Then she doesn't come back. But dead flowers aren't really a substitute for a living person, Broadway."

The nickname brought the ghost of a smile to Rachel's face, followed by an overshadowing pain in her eyes. "Does she ask about me?" she said quietly, stepping away from the dresser to sit on the edge of the bed. She smoothed her skirt nervously, unable to look at Santana while she ransacked the mess on the dresser.

"Yeah, she does. I keep telling her to just ask you herself but she has always been the most stubborn about the least important things."

"I miss her, Santana."

Santana's muscles stiffened and she stopped gathering the flowers from the desk as sounds of sobbing filled the room. She fought the urge to groan and silently cursed Quinn Fabray. She didn't know how to deal with an overly emotional, love sick, midget-diva.

"Suck it up, crying isn't going to do anything," she said stiffly. Rachel replied with a series of machine gun sobs and an odd squeaking noise that Santana had never heard from a human before.  
"Okay, breathe. Breathe before your head explodes," Santana urged impatiently. "Rachel calm down!"

The brunette looked up at Santana with watery brown eyes, her chest heaving with laboured breaths. "Look, I'll go and talk to her, okay? So stop blubbering, you look like a mess."

Rachel gave Santana a small smile accompanied by a slight nod of her head. "Thank you, Santana. You're a good friend," she said, walking over to the taller woman intending to give her a hug.

"Save it, Frodo," Santana said nonchalantly, snatching up the trash bag and turning to leave. "I'm not making any promises. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to torture some new recruits before I completely lose my rep." She exited Rachel's bedroom and left the small brunette to stare at the lone bouquet she'd left on the dresser. Rachel moved to caress the arrangement of tulips and sighed longingly.

Quinn's eyes fluttered open as she caught the scent of hazelnut and coffee. She groaned and rolled over in her bed, stuffing her head under her pillow. "Get the fuck up Q," Santana said impatiently.

"Goddamn it S, don't you have a fucking job? One that doesn't involve harassing me?" Quinn replied from under the pillow.

"If you got your shit together I wouldn't have to harass you. But that's a good point, I should start charging you and Berry for my services."

Quinn poked her head out from under the pillow to look at her friend. "She sent you?"

"No I just really missed your bullshit," she replied, rolling her eyes. "That girl is a mess and I cannot deal with it. Do you know what she sounds like when she cries?" she shuddered.

Quinn sat up and took the coffee Santana held out to her. She sipped cautiously, trying to hide the worry in her eyes. "I want my key back by the way," she said venomously.

"Of course you do. Not that it would matter anyway, we both know who taught you that trick with the nail file."

"What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want?" Santana scoffed. "This is about you, Q. What the fuck are you doing hiding in LA, burying yourself in work when we both know what you really want."

Quinn slammed her cup down on her nightstand and hastily rose from her bed. She gathered her blond locks into a messy ponytail while she paced the floor. "I'm doing exactly what I want," she snapped, "Working my ass off to make partner for the office in New York. And I am not hiding." She turned her back on Santana and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door with more force than was necessary.

"I call bullshit, Fabray." Santana announced as she leaned against the bathroom sink. Quinn cursed loudly at the interruption, but Santana made no move to leave the bathroom, and instead folded her arms over her chest and said, "Oh please, like we haven't shared a locker room? Besides, I still look better naked, Tubbers." Quinn only glared through the frosted glass of the shower door for a few moments before turning her attention back to her shower. She knew Santana wasn't going anywhere until she got her point across. She tried her best to lose herself in the hot water and steam.

"What are you so scared of?" Santana asked in a voice that held a gentleness she didn't use very often. Her question was met with stony silence while Quinn ducked her head into the stream of water to drown her out. She didn't want to have this conversation with Santana; she'd had it too many times with herself over the past weeks. Santana rolled her eyes and decided to switch tactics, her usual methods weren't working. "Look Q, I respect that you're trying to make it into the big leagues with your career. You've been working towards this for years now. But if that's really the only reason, then why can't you make it to just one show?" Quinn ducked her head into the water again, trying to quell the sounds of a thousand thoughts bouncing around her head. She really didn't have an answer for that; she could've made it to just one show. The problem was would one show have been enough? Santana wouldn't let up, mentioning that Brittany had taken a day off from her tour to see the show and that Puck had seen it more than once. When the blond's head turned to her questioningly, Santana explained that Puck had liked the look of a certain cast member, and Rachel had introduced the two. Santana knew Quinn's lips were pulled up in a smirk and hastily cut in, "Okay technically, he was chasing a skirt, but the point is he's seen the damn play. We all have, except you."

The words sunk into her brain like a heavy anchor. She had promised Rachel she'd see the show, but had yet to fulfil that promise. Rachel's disappointed face clouded her mind, big, brown eyes swimming with tears and her soft lips forming a perfect pout. Quinn shut her eyes against the image and turned off the water. Santana handed her a towel before sauntering out of the bathroom, she knew she was on her way to breaking down Quinn's resolve. As Quinn stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her body she called out teasingly, "You don't wanna watch?" Santana didn't have to look back as she flipped her off.

Quinn enjoyed her solitude while she dried the water from her body, mentally preparing herself for round two with Santana. She tried to ignore the guilt streaking through her head, blasting Santana's words at full volume. Words like "scared", "disappointed" and "except you", cut like a knife. She knew that Santana wouldn't leave until she got her way; her best bet was to convince her that Quinn was doing what was best for everyone, especially Rachel. The thought sent a shockwave of doubt through her mind. She no longer knew if this was the best thing for anyone. The truth was she missed Rachel. Every second they were apart was another brick in the wall she had condemned her heart to hide behind. The thicker the wall became, the heavier the ache in her chest. Quinn stalked out of the bathroom and was surprised to find Santana throwing items into an overnight suitcase in her bedroom. "That's very thoughtful, S, but I don't have to be in Chicago for a couple more days," she said sarcastically, raising her eyebrow as items were shoved mercilessly into place. Santana merely rolled her eyes and continued to gather random items of clothing. "Seriously, Santana, where the fuck do you think I'm going?"

"To Lima, shit head. Now get dressed and pack your shit. And don't bother telling me about how busy you are with work, I already downloaded your schedule and told your assistant you'll be working from home. She was pleased by the way, glad you wouldn't be sleeping in your office again."

Quinn's face flushed with embarrassment. She turned to face her dresser to get her underwear from a drawer and then slipped into a pair of jeans and a loose fitting blouse before settling onto the edge of the bed, tucking one leg underneath her. "Why are you so adamant that I go?" she asked in exasperation.

"Because you promised her that you would. And you being there means the world to her," Santana replied matter-of-factly. Quinn hefted a sigh and looked up at Santana who had moved to stand over her.

"Well sometimes it doesn't matter how much you love someone, or how much you want them to stay. Sometimes it doesn't work out the way you want it to," said Quinn. Her voice sounded as distant as she felt. It was the voice of someone who was giving up.

Santana nodded sagely. "I used to think the same thing about me and Brittany," she said softly.

_The sun glinted off the rippling water of the duck pond the same way it bounced off the head of blond hair that lay in Santana's lap. She caressed the strands, fanning them out over her legs and caught Brittany's smile from the corner of her eye. Brittany loved the feel of Santana's fingers delicately threading through her hair, the sign of affection and tenderness reserved only for her in these sacred moments. _

"_I want to say like this forever, San," breathed Brittany. Santana moved her fingers from Brittany's hair to stroke her face._

"_I know, B, but even the ducks have to sleep, just like us." _

_Brittany's soft laughter caused Santana to look down at her face curiously. _

"_That's not what I meant San," she giggled. "I mean me and you. Staying me and you forever." _

_It took just a second for the tall blond to gracefully sit up and straddle Santana's lap and kiss her lovingly, brushing the back of her neck with her thumbs. Santana almost lost herself in the sensation of the kiss, as was natural in this situation, but the look in Brittany's eyes had set off an alarm in her mind. She waited for Brittany to pull back from the embrace to take a breath before asking her to clarify what she meant. It was then that the blond brought out a small velvet box and held it out to her proudly. "I knew you wouldn't want to make it a big deal so I didn't bother with flowers or a band of those guys wearing sombreros," Brittany said softly. "But I love you and I want to be yours forever." Gentle, pale hands settled over Santana's fingers that still held the box and opened the lid to reveal the ring. _

"_Brittany…" Santana started to say, but the blond put her hand to her face reverently and looked at her with pleading eyes, begging her not to run away again. Telling her that this was good, that it was their time. Santana sat transfixed by Brittany's eyes and paralysed by the enormous weight of the box in their hands. _

"_B, we can't," she said._

"_Says who?" asked Brittany. _

"_We just can't, B."_

_Brittany tried to keep the hurt from her eyes but Santana read her like an open book. She silently prayed that Brittany wouldn't cry. The disappointment in her eyes alone stung like acid. "You don't want me?" whispered Brittany. Santana recoiled from the question like it was a bladed whip. She grabbed Brittany's face in both of her hands and turned her face to look at her so she kissed could her with all the love she couldn't speak but Brittany pulled back, insistent on her using words. She tried to reason with the blond, assuring her that she would always want her, but that she didn't see a need for marriage, there was nothing wrong with what they had now and she was not going anywhere. Brittany looked away unsatisfied with Santana's reply. _

Santana turned back to focus on Quinn who sat intently listening to her story.

"What happened after that?" she asked, having never heard this story before she sat in rapt attention, soaking in every word.

"She pulled away and then left me. I lasted all of a month before I went grovelling back with a ring of my own," she said shaking her head. Her expression went from a soft delight to menacing at the sight of Quinn's smile. "Tell me you wouldn't swallow that precious pride of yours for Berry, that you wouldn't grovel so she'd take you back," she shot back. "Brittany means more to me than my pride, and she is the only thing on Earth I'd ever grovel for." Quinn swallowed her laughter and stared at her hands. She couldn't even remember why she had run away from Rachel in the first place. She wanted to be with her, ached to be by her side. She stood up from her position on the bed and started reorganizing Santana's haphazard packing. She tried her best to control her racing emotions. She would fulfil her promise, first and foremost, and then go from there. It was as good a plan as any.

Rachel pulled the door open and looked around for an empty seat in the dark establishment. The small bar was almost deserted, just two stray souls drowning their sorrows in half empty tumblers of whisky. Rachel wondered if the same forlorn expression these patrons wore was so clearly displayed in her eyes. She passed the empty tables and took a seat at the bar. "I'm sorry but we don't serve milk here," said the tall brunette behind the bar. She eyed Rachel with unwavering brown eyes as she dried her hands on a dishtowel before slinging it over her shoulder. Rachel set her lips in a line and glared at the other woman, preparing to launch into a speech about how, as a strict vegan, she didn't even drink milk because of the cruel nature of milking machines and the distress they placed on cows; and that she was perfectly happy to indulge in an alcoholic beverage even though she didn't understand why the bartender had advised her of the lack of dairy products, when she found herself suddenly disarmed by a smile. "I'm just fucking with you," breezed the woman. "It's just that you kinda look like you're twelve. Can I see some ID please?" Rachel huffed a breath and rolled her eyes while the bartender looked her up and down. She held out her hand, palm up, waiting for Rachel's drivers license. Rachel fished around her bag for her wallet, and locating her license, placed it impatiently in the proffered hand. "Looks legit," she said. "Okay, so what'll it be?" she asked, setting a paper coaster on the bar in front of the stool nearest to Rachel. Rachel slipped into the seat and played with the coaster nervously. She wasn't really supposed to be drinking, even though her substance abuse problem was drug related, drinking was frowned upon and seen as gateway behaviour. If she was honest with herself she wasn't sure what had compelled her to visit the bar across the street from the theatre. She had come in a few times with the cast after shows, always the team player, even if she was stuck drinking cranberry juice. She had wanted to drown her sorrows like everyone else, wanted to use the alcohol to numb the pain of Quinn's constant absence, and to forget that they weren't together anymore. When she still didn't respond the woman leaned across the bar and placed a tall glass of cranberry juice in front of her, complete with a festive straw and a bright pink umbrella. "Maybe you just came in to talk, Rachel?" she said, surprising the starlet with the use of her name and the ability to read minds. She composed herself, but pulled the straw closer to her lips. "If you wanted to know my name it would've been more polite to simply ask," said Rachel, before taking a sip of the drink.

"Perks of the job," she shrugged. "And because you're obviously too stubborn to smile or ask my name, I'll just tell you. It's Victoria," she added, extending a friendly hand towards Rachel who took it lightly and shook it.

Victoria slammed into Rachel's body as their lips met in a heated kiss. Rachel noted the different texture of the lips pressed against hers, still soft but unfamiliar, a taste that was foreign but not unpleasant. Her mind made a list of all the differing features, forcing her to acknowledge the truth that she wasn't kissing Quinn. Quinn, whose lips held a gentle dominance, whose taste was sweet and intoxicating, whose tongue moved intuitively, instinctually against hers. She hadn't noticed that she had stopped responding to Victoria's mouth and body, and that the woman now leaned on one hand to the right of Rachel's head, looking at her inquisitively. Her brown eyes probed her, searching for Rachel who was lost in her own thoughts. Victoria moved a strand of Rachel's hair back behind her ear and gave her a kind smile. Rachel blushed, embarrassed at being caught with her attention diverted. Victoria collected herself, reigning herself in with a breath. She straightened up and gestured to the sofa in the living room, inviting Rachel to take a seat. "I think it would be more appropriate if I simply left, Victoria. Not that you have been anything but hospitable and kind, but I don't want to give you the wrong idea," she said.  
"And what idea would that be?" answered the tall brunette as she walked into the kitchen. Rachel moved towards her, but stopped behind the sofa, resting her hands on its back and stroking the soft leather, unsure of why she was here in the first place. She heard clattering coming from the kitchen and the strong scent of coffee filled her nose. It smelled wonderful, comforting in a way. Victoria walked back into the living room with two cups in her hands, her feet were bare and she looked completely relaxed. Rachel also noted she was rather beautiful. Her long hair was tousled from the amorous interaction that had taken place earlier, and there was a playful sparkle in her eyes. Victoria set the cups down on the coffee table and settled onto the sofa, patting the seat next to her. "Well technically I'm not on the clock, but a bartender's job is never done. Sit."

Rachel poured herself into bed at 3am and replayed parts of the night she had spent with Victoria. They'd spent hours talking, well Rachel had done most of the talking while Victoria listened intently, making the occasional comment, asking a question to get more information. As Rachel built a catalogue of all the information she had divulged to the almost stranger, she started to feel more and more naked. But there was a part of her that felt strangely liberated. Victoria had listened without judgement, and each time Rachel had felt lost within the memories of her story she said something that brought a smile back to her face and brought her back to the present. She had even asked about Quinn, which sent Rachel into a lovesick madness where she talked about the blond for forty-five continuous minutes, after which she cried for twenty-five continuous minutes. When they realized the time Victoria had loaded her into a cab and sent her home. Rachel smiled contentedly, and as she drifted off to sleep Victoria's soft smile was the last conscious thought that swam through her mind.

It was raining in Lima, Ohio. Quinn pulled up the collar of her coat against the rain. Her feet pulled her in one direction, dubiously controlled by her head, while her heart seemed to almost break through her chest in its endeavour to be closer to Rachel. She stood outside the theatre watching the crowd trickle in, her pass clutched in a vice-like grip. She'd already made the trip out here; it was pointless to turn back now. Adrenaline shot through her system like a lightning storm, every inch of her tingled with anticipation of seeing Rachel, touching Rachel, kissing Rachel. She halted those thoughts with an icy force. She wasn't here for some fairytale reunion; she came to uphold her promise. Her heart thumped recklessly against her ribs in defiance. She knew it wouldn't be a party to her mind's charade. Her feet moved deftly to the rhythm of her pounding heart, it was time to get out of the rain.

Quinn took a seat among the sea of bodies in the theatre. She looked around cautiously trying to spy the whereabouts of any of her friends, particularly Santana Lopez, but found no sign of anyone she knew. The lights dimmed and the crowd fell to a hush, Quinn attempted to steady the roaring of her heart, sure that the other people filling the seats would hear it thumping Rachel's name inside her chest. The thick curtain rose, revealing Rachel Berry, and Quinn forgot everyone else in the theatre. She focused on the brunette's magnificence, admired the way she owned the stage, and drank in her grace and poise. Quinn was breathless and she knew she would never breath again until her lips were pressed against the lips now opening and weaving a spell over her.

It was still raining when Quinn made her way to the rear stage door. Rachel's performance had been mesmerizing, and for Quinn, too short-lived. The heavy drops of rain pelted against her coat and Quinn fidgeted with her keys in her pocket. This had not been part of her plan, and while the rain continued to fall she ran through a speech she had thought up on the spot. It was messy, ridiculous and a little cheesy but she wasn't prepared for this moment, or for the assault on her heart that had resulted from seeing Rachel. The door swung open revealing a luxurious swish of dark brown hair and the musical laughter that made her heart stop beating. "I can't believe you came to see me!" said Rachel, turning around to step out of the door followed closely by Victoria. Quinn's blood turned to ice. Her hazel eyes blinked in confusion, matching Rachel's dazed expression when their eyes met. Tension settled over the three women like a thundercloud, the heavy slamming door ringing like a clap of thunder.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Glee or the characters obviously. Story is mine. WOOP!

A/N: Thanks for hanging in there and apologies for this taking so long! I've been awake for 2 days straight trying to get this completed. Thanks to everyone who read and review and sent in encouraging messages and reviews urging me to update, telling me they still believed in this story or asking me what the hell my problem was due to lack of updates. YOU HAVE ALL BE FABULOUS! Thank you again for all your support, and if I can ask you one last time: READ AND REVIEW! I'm pretty sure this final chapter does not live up to the expectations of my very loyal readers and for that I must apologize. Please do tell me what you think.

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Rachel stumbled when she saw the familiar blond standing in the rain like some fantastic mirage only her mind could have conjured. The light hair she knew to be so delicate was gathered in a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck, saturated by the rain still steadily falling. She couldn't tell if the moist tracks that traced her face were from raindrops or tears. Quinn's hands were shaking and Rachel longed to take them in hers and kiss away her tremors. After what seemed like a slow eternity of drinking in Quinn's form, Rachel opened her mouth to speak. "You came," she whispered, her brown eyes lighting up with the joy she felt. Quinn squeezed her hands into tight fists. She nodded once, not trusting herself to speak, instead she focused her attention on curling and uncurling her fists while her eyes flickered between Rachel and the unknown brunette. At least the intruder had the sense to remove her hand from Rachel's back when she saw Quinn's surprised face. She now stood casually beside Rachel, waiting for the awkward tension to subside. Growing impatient and chilly, Victoria took a bold step towards Quinn and extended her hand in greeting. "You must be Quinn," she said, "I'm Victoria, Rachel's –" The sentence was terminated when Quinn forced her shoulder into Victoria's body as she pushed past the brunette to get to Rachel.

"I don't care who you are," she hissed at Victoria who grunted in surprise as they collided. "You move fast," she sneered at Rachel. Anger rolled off her body in waves and so many insults rested on the tip of her tongue. She wouldn't allow them to get any further than that however.

"Excuse me?" she replied.

Quinn hardened her heart and pressed her lips into a tight line. "You heard me," she said. Rachel folded her arms across her chest, having had quite enough of Quinn's childish behaviour. She bristled against what Quinn was now implying, and she sure as hell didn't like her tone. Especially since the blond had been the one to walk away and failed to return any of her calls or messages. "That's the first thing you choose to say to me after all this time?" she asked. "You left me, ignored me and then show up almost too late, just to greet me with derision and distrust?" The assessment disarmed Quinn. At least she had the sense to look ashamed, thought Rachel. "Would you like to go somewhere and talk?" she offered.

Quinn lifted her head to meet Rachel's eyes. She did want to talk. She was also aware that they'd been standing in the rain for some time now and she didn't want Rachel to get sick. "What about your girlfriend?" she asked stonily.

"Victoria's not my girlfriend, Quinn. I mean we kissed but it didn't feel right," she started to admit a little too fast, nervousness trickling into her confession.

The admission hit Quinn like a bullet, splintering her chest and piercing the soft tissues of her heart. She had no right to feel betrayed or angry. Rachel was right, she had left. It had been her choice. And yet this echoing wound throbbed around the edges as she tried to close it from the inside, to reign in her warring emotions. She tried her best to feel nothing at all. Rachel's nervous rambling had quieted down and now she stood watching, waiting for Quinn to adjust, reading her emotions one by one as they flickered in her eyes like frames in a movie reel. It felt a little like watching a roulette table, the ball bouncing from red to black, red to black as Quinn processed the information. Rachel was all too aware of the gamble she had made. It was just a kiss, a mistake, a wrong turn; but lying about it would only convolute the situation. She wanted to set the record straight now.

Quinn smiled bitterly, "I guess I deserved that," she said finally.

"I didn't do it to punish you, Quinn," replied Rachel.

"Didn't you?" she yelled back. "You said it yourself, I left, I ignored you. It makes perfect sense that you'd –" she let the sentence hang in the air unfinished.

"You want to call me a whore, don't you?" she asked tiredly. "Do you think that will fix things? Will it make you feel better?" Quinn inhaled sharply, but said nothing. "I want to stop fighting, it's not getting anywhere. So if you need to call me a whore so we can move forward then go ahead, I'm ready."

Victoria moved to Rachel's side protectively, looking ready to punch Quinn's face in if she even so much as formed the word in her mind. Rachel gave her a small smile but waved her off. Quinn shook her head slowly at the presumptuous brunette stranger, and moved to close the distance between her and Rachel. "No, it won't make me feel better, " she admitted. "But this might."

She pulled her fist back and hit Victoria in the jaw, and then shaking the pain off her knuckles she smiled delightfully. "Yeah, that helped a little." Rachel gasped as Victoria stumbled from the impact. She took only a second to right herself, a trickle of blood issuing from the smirk she wore. "You punch like a cheerleader," she spat, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. Victoria moved with speed and landed a punch of her own, striking Quinn on the cheek, causing the blond's head to whip to the side from the impact. Quinn grabbed the front of Victoria's jacket and shoved her against the rough theatre wall, smiling at the small grunt of pain the impact elicited. Gripping Quinn's wrist and trying to pry her hand free from her jacket, Victoria snarled, "Let go," before pushing off from the wall. The two women fell onto the ground, splashing into the puddles of rain that had collected there, each trading blows and trying to get the other to submit. Victoria poised her fist for another crack at Quinn's face, but the athletic ex-cheerleader kicked her off her body. Victoria hit the ground and smacked her head against the cold, wet ground. Rachel's voice was a distant alarm, calling for both of them to cease the altercation.

"Break it up, both of you!" boomed Santana, running towards the wrestling pair and forcibly yanking Quinn off the brunette she had pinned to the ground. Victoria hastily got to her feet and straightened her jacket, glaring maliciously at Quinn. Santana faced the blonde and laid a placating hand on her heaving chest, but Quinn looked past her friend and smirked at Victoria instead. "You have a little something right there," she said, gesturing to the blood smear from the cut in Victoria's lip.

"Yeah? Well you should probably invest in a better concealer, 'cause your face is going to look like shit tomorrow," Victoria crowed.

"I'd give you the same advice, but I don't think concealer is going to be much use," laughed Quinn.

Victoria surged forward, but was stopped by Santana's arm pushing against her chest. "Rachel, I suggest you take Million Dollar Baby over here home. She's going to need some ice," ordered Santana, motioning to Victoria with her head.

Both Rachel and Quinn opened their mouths to interject but fell silent under Santana's gaze. "Tyler Durden's coming with me. She needs to calm the fuck down and walk it off." Santana gripped Quinn by the shoulder and started to steer her down the footpath.

Rachel watched Quinn and Santana disappear down the street before looking at Victoria who was still quietly seething and dabbing at the cut on her lip. Rachel reached out her hand to touch her arm but Victoria shrugged it off angrily, causing Rachel to drop her hand as she hung her head. "I'm sorry, Victoria, I didn't know she would react that way."

Victoria sighed and ran a hand through her now messy hair. "Except, you did know she would react that way. You were testing her to see whether or not she still cared enough to fight for you." Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times, struggling to come up with an argument. "Well you got your answer, it came at the expense of my face, but you got your answer," Victoria yelled angrily, turning to storm off towards her car. Her legs wobbled and she had to slow her motions. Rachel appeared at her side and helped to support the taller brunette.

"Let me help you," she said, slinging Victoria's arm around her shoulders and slipping an arm around her waist.

"Fine, you can take me home," she replied shortly.

"Again I must apologize about the state of your face," Rachel said quietly, sitting on the end of the sofa while Victoria slumped against the cushions on the other end, pressing a bag of ice cubes to the back of her head.

"You should see the other guy," smiled Victoria. "Tell you one thing though, she punches pretty well for a cheerleader."

Rachel smiled, "I'll tell her you said so."

Victoria scoffed and shook her head saying, "Oh God no, don't. It's hard enough I'm losing the girl to her. I'd like to keep some of my dignity." Rachel fell silent at her words, her mouth shutting as her eyes widened. Victoria noticed her expression and sighed. "Don't," she said. "Don't pretend you didn't know."

Rachel bowed her head in submission knowing all too well that the whisper light touches and the looks she had caught spoke volumes of the feelings that Victoria had for her. She also admitted that Victoria had been right about what she had said about testing Quinn. She didn't want to believe that Quinn could just walk away and feel nothing; she needed proof that there was still something there. She tried to hide the shame she felt, but using Victoria to try to forget about Quinn and then to make her jealous was wrong. "We just kissed," she said quietly.

"Yeah, and sometimes that's all it takes," shrugged Victoria.

Rachel nodded and her mind filled with the memory of the first time she and Quinn had shared a kiss, and then became enveloped in the memories of every subsequent kiss. "Did you think I'd get into a fist fight over nothing?" asked Victoria, still trying to keep her calm. She didn't want to appear desperate, but she wanted Rachel to see that she was an option too. When Rachel didn't respond she turned to look at the smaller brunette and saw her wearing the same glazed over expression she had the first time she had been in her apartment. Victoria looked away stonily, shifting tensely in her seat. "Jesus! See, you're thinking about her right now. Why are you even here?" she exclaimed, trying to contain her jealousy but doing a poor job. She tried to tell herself to calm down; it wasn't like her to get so strung out over a girl. And like it or not, this particular girl had unresolved issues.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," said Rachel indignantly, "After all, this is all my fault. I never wanted you to get hurt." The double meaning in her words didn't escape Victoria, but it didn't make the truth any easier to accept. She tried to salvage what was left of her ego by shifting the focus.

"The way I see it, if you're pissed off at someone you care about you tell them," Victoria said evenly. "You don't run away like a pussy or pull that passive aggressive shit. You get mad, you fight, but you move on." Rachel looked at Victoria and watched the way she gestured when she made a point, or lifted her hand to sweep her hair back behind her ear.

"And yeah, sometimes you need time to cool off or whatever, but if that person loves you they'll understand; and if you love that person you'll come back. And then you fix it together."

Rachel smiled at Victoria. "Is it really that easy?" she asked softly, finally taking her eyes off the woman to stare at her hands in her lap.

Victoria nodded without hesitation, "In my opinion, yes it is. And you should've just kissed her. Anyone could see that's all she really wanted."

Victoria threw the ice pack onto the coffee table in frustration. Rachel wanted desperately to ease the tension currently suffocating them both. She knew, however, that nothing she could say would make the situation any better, and Victoria would only think she was trying to alleviate her guilt. And she did feel guilty; she tried to tell herself that she didn't feel anything for the charming bartender, but that wasn't entirely accurate. Victoria was sweet, sexy, and spoke her mind. She listened to her and she didn't think twice about taking a punch for her, even though they hadn't known each other for very long. But Rachel loved Quinn, and it would be unfair to get involved with Victoria when she knew that she was still emotionally embroiled with Quinn.

Rachel let her eyes lock onto the injured woman slumped on the couch. Victoria had her eyes closed and one arm slung across her forehead while her head rested against the back of the sofa. Rachel smiled at the half pout on her face and felt a twinge of something pulling inside her chest. _Maybe in another life_, she thought.

She rose from her seat and quietly informed Victoria that she was leaving.

Victoria lowered her forearm and looked up at her before slowly getting to her feet. "Good luck with Quinn," she forced out, trying to unclench her jaw long enough for the words to leave her mouth. Rachel shrugged her coat on and lifted her hair out from her coat collar. Victoria moved the bangs out of Rachel's face, her hand hovering slightly longer than she intended it to. The room fell silent as their heartbeats accelerated, each becoming slaves to their quickening pulses. A rush of endorphins emboldened Victoria and she gently cupped Rachel's cheek, and then leaned in to kiss her on the lips. The kiss was intense and Rachel struggled for reasons to end it. By the time she remembered what they were, Victoria had pulled away and smiled at her. "You kiss her," she said, "That way you don't have to wonder 'What if?'" Rachel blinked stupidly while Victoria walked to the door and held it open for her. She turned around, said goodbye and left.

Quinn hissed as the tequila stung her split lip, and winced as Santana thrust a frozen bag of gummy bears against her rapidly swelling eye. She pulled the icy bag from her face and squinted at the frozen candy. Santana folder her arms and cocked her head slightly to the side as she answered, "Britt likes to pretend they're polar bears sometimes." Santana coughed lightly as she shifted in her seat. Quinn started to smile until her lip protested against the movement, so she poured herself another shot of tequila in the hopes that it would quell both the physical and emotional pain she was experiencing.

They sat at the kitchen counter of Santana's small, one-bedroom apartment. It was simply furnished and served as a place to stay while she was in Lima for coaching and recruiting purposes. Santana watched Quinn down her third shot of the gold liquid before she snatched the glass from her. She poured herself a measure and lifting the shot glass in a toast said, "Fuck, you're a complete idiot sometimes," before tossing it back. Quinn fumed silently, not willing to rise to the bait she was being offered. The tequila wasn't helping the pounding in her head and she wasn't in the mood for another one of Santana's afterschool specials about how to make a relationship work. The hardened gummy bears dug into the tender skin around her eye but she knew it was better to endure a little discomfort instead of walking around with a swollen face for the next few days.

Santana stared hard at Quinn. She was used to the lawyer being in control and thinking through problems with a level and calculating head. As she sat with a bag of frozen candy pressed to her eye, her expression fluctuating between hopeless morbidity and hell raising anger, Quinn was a far cry from put together. Santana had to give her a hard dose of reality.

"Rachel kissed someone, and then admitted it right away, to your face," Santana said sternly. "But you," she said, her voice rising in pitch. She paused to reset her voice and rubbed her temple like she wasn't sure she should say anything. "You swooped in, promised everything was going to be okay, made her fall in love with you, and convinced her to trust you," she said pointedly. She punctuated the important points by slamming the shot glass down on the counter, inadvertently making Quinn flinch with its effect on her throbbing head. "Then you ran the fuck away, Q. And _that_ is a lot worse. It's cowardly and selfish and you're trying to make this all her fault when it isn't."

Quinn's jaw dropped as the verbal onslaught hit her ears. She stared dumbstruck at her formidable friend who downed another shot of tequila for her efforts. "Wow, Santana, don't hold back on my account," said Quinn sarcastically. She was still too angry to listen even though Santana's words had hit a resounding chord within her. Santana shrugged her shoulders and slid the shot glass back to Quinn who immediately pushed it away. "You're not the only one who cares about her," Santana said bitterly. Quinn sat stoically, digesting the words that had been thrown at her. After several moments of silence, Santana looked at Quinn and smiled. "And nice job getting your ass kicked by the way," she laughed, passing her eyes over Quinn's bruised face and cut lip.

"It's not like I didn't give as good as I got," Quinn replied petulantly.

"There are no prizes for stupidity, Q."

Santana left Quinn to her thoughts while she checked in with Brittany. Quinn sat hunched over in her chair feeling the moisture from the slowly thawing gummy bears slide down her face, furthering her humiliation. She questioned her actions from the point of view Santana had driven home earlier. She felt the bile rise to the back of her throat as she admitted how badly she had treated Rachel. She had sacrificed her when Rachel was most vulnerable. And Rachel had waited patiently for her to return, even though Quinn had almost broken her word, sending flowers in her absence as if that would atone for her sins. It felt like they were repeating the same actions in every fight. And Quinn was always the first to run away, and always the first to beg for forgiveness. Then something else would happen and they'd land up right back where they started. It was time to go all in, commit fully to Rachel Berry or leave her alone for good.

A knock at the door jerked Quinn from her erratic thoughts. She listened for Santana, wondering if she had been expecting company, but when the rest of the apartment remained quiet and undisturbed Quinn slid off her chair and walked to the door with the make shift ice pack still pressed to her eye. She opened the door and momentarily struggled to focus her vision on the person standing in the doorway. When a lithe, warm body stretched up against her and wrapped two arms around her neck and nuzzled into her skin, Quinn's instinct took over and she wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist and pulled her flush against her body. They embraced for a short while, neither woman saying a word, content to just soak in the other's presence. Quinn pulled back first and Rachel took a moment to get a good look at her face, lifting her hand to caress the puffy skin around her eye that was cold to the touch due to the icy bag she had applied to it. "You shouldn't have hit her," Rachel chastised the blond quietly, ghosting her fingertips over the cut on Quinn's lip. Quinn stood silently looking into Rachel's deep, chocolate eyes, trying to order her thoughts that were suddenly swimming in those massive orbs. The soft pads of Rachel's fingertips on her skin caused the pain to leech from her face, and ignited instead a whispering heat the danced along her porcelain skin. Hazel eyes traced Rachel's familiar and full lips, and Quinn wondered what a kiss would make her feel, and consequently forget, if those lips met hers and shared all the feelings that bubbled beneath the calm veneer she wore. She also wondered if feeling or forgetting was more important.

When Rachel was satisfied with mapping all of Quinn's features, she lowered her hand from its study and brought it to rest in front of her, clasped in the other as if it held the memory of Quinn's face for safe keeping.

Quinn shut the door and directed Rachel to the sofa in the front room where they sat awkwardly and tried to avoid each other's gaze. Noticing Rachel's furrowed brow and the way her brown eyes kept cataloguing the bruising on her face, Quinn tried her best to smile despite the cut in her lip and reassured the concerned brunette that it looked a lot worse than it was. Rachel laughed nervously, saying that Victoria had said something similar, and soon after the comment left her lips the tiny space had filled with an encumbering tension. The silence was awkward and oppressing, and Rachel silently kicked herself for mentioning Victoria's name. Quinn sorted through her feelings, trying to numb the blind anger she felt at Victoria's name being uttered so soon in her reunion with Rachel. She tried her best to brush the jealousy aside so they could focus on their relationship.

"We should just get everything out in the open," said Rachel, extending her hand in a sweeping motion over the table as she spoke. Quinn agreed and placed the soggy bag of gummy bears on the floor next to her and hastily wiped her hands on her pants. She turned to face Rachel; her head still pounding and her heart beat irregular from her nerves. She still didn't have the perfect words to make her understand, she just hoped she could say enough to convince her to give them one more chance. No one had said anything yet for fear they'd cause another argument to break out, and they were both so tired of fighting.

"Okay," said Rachel, "I guess I'll go first." She drew a deep breath, and Quinn felt her chest constrict with panic as Rachel filled hers, and then released it in a long dramatic breath. "We're not in high school anymore, Quinn," Rachel smiled as she looked at Quinn's face. "We're supposed to be adults who talk about their feelings, instead of indulging in physical violence and assault." She watched Quinn's eyes widen as she set up to defend herself, her lawyer brain coming up with an argument almost instantly. Rachel reached out to Quinn and placed her hand over hers in the blond's lap, effectively dissuading her from providing a counter argument and calming her down all at once. Rachel squeezed Quinn's hand gently and apologized for the way she had imparted knowledge of the kiss to Quinn. She explained that she wanted to see if Quinn still cared about her, had wanted to see her jealous, and had wanted her to be afraid of losing her too, the way that Rachel always was every time Quinn took off running. Quinn listened while Rachel talked, her hand gently squeezing Quinn's and acting as an anchor for her feelings.

"I'm a little scared to say that I'm sorry," admitted Quinn. "It's beginning to feel like a worthless phrase after all the times I've had to apologize for something. And it's not that I mean it any less the more I say it, but I feel like I should stop making the mistakes in the first place." She looked up from the hands in her lap and saw the proud sparkle in Rachel's eyes. Quinn shook her head and at once exclaimed that she didn't deserve that look of pride that Rachel beamed her way. She felt like a coward for running away every time something didn't go her way, especially after all the promises she had made to Rachel, promises that she had subsequently broken. "I never got a chance to tell you how amazing you were on stage," Quinn gasped, feeling the same excitement she had when she sat in the theatre marvelling at Rachel's performance. "You were exquisite," she said reverently, lifting Rachel's hand to her lips and laying a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"You almost didn't make it," she replied in a small voice, "I looked out for you every night because you promised you'd come. Is it always going to be this way, Quinn? You making promises and me waiting for you to break them." She couldn't stop the tears from falling down her face now, even though she knew she'd cried enough tears over Quinn Fabray. It was good to see her and have her so close, and it was wonderful that they were trying to resolve all their issues, but a part of her was waiting for that lightning scramble that would see her alone again as Quinn bolted for the nearest exit. And another string of promises wasn't going to fix that panic. Rachel wondered if anything would.

"I want you to move to New York with me," Quinn said. At first Rachel hadn't even heard the full request, the words "New York" sent a thrilling explosion through her nervous system as stray and fuzzy images assaulted her brain. She made a noise of confusion and Quinn shifted closer to her on the sofa to put her arm around her tiny frame as she explained how Tony had died in a Police drug raid. It took her a few explanations before Rachel finally got the information to sink in. She then started to lay down the bare bones structure of a plan for a real life together, explaining how she'd finally been made partner at her law firm and was being put in charge of the New York office. "I was told a few hours before your show started, I basically took it as a blessing from the universe," said Quinn. "And you can be on Broadway and I will be a lawyer and Santana will still be a bitch," she added for good measure, remembering that the Latina was probably eavesdropping from somewhere in the apartment, and making sure that Quinn didn't find a way to fuck things up again. Quinn looked deeply into Rachel's eyes and held her hand between her two, dropping kisses on her soft skin at her convenience. "I want a real life with you, a real relationship with you. All or nothing," she said.

Rachel stood from the sofa and moved around the room. Quinn watched her nervously, wondering if she would bolt now just to spite her. She shook the thought from her head, Rachel wasn't like that, wasn't like her.

"And do you know what 'all' entails," she asked Quinn. She didn't allow the blond a chance to answer as she started listing off the criteria. Rachel still needed to go to meetings because she was still in recovery, and Quinn couldn't just decide to not deal with that part of her life. She had been doing well with group meetings so far, and some nights she actually enjoyed the speakers. It was hard hearing the broken stories of people in their darkest moments, but it was a safe place for Rachel to admit that some days she did miss the oblivion, the reckless abandon and escape that heroin had once provided her. Quinn couldn't just shut her eyes and wish that away. Rachel reminded her that it was a path she had to follow; it wasn't just a light switch that she could flick on and off. It also meant trusting her not to use again. And missing and using were two separate aspects and Quinn needed to learn not to jump to conclusions so much. She was like a rabbit in a greyhound race, already programmed to follow a specific track and as soon as the gates were down she took off. "And we have to talk, I'm serious," said Rachel, folding her arms to stress the point. "The sex is great and I love you, but we need to communicate outside of a bedroom setting," sighed Rachel.

"Yes of course, I'll do anything you want," exclaimed Quinn. She had to admit the points that Rachel had made were reasonable and well thought out, there was no arguing her way out of this one. She looked at the short brunette and saw that glint in her chocolate eyes and knew she didn't really want to argue her way out of anything. "There you go again, making big sweeping promises," Rachel huffed.

"Rachel, shut up and kiss me," said Quinn.

The familiar advice of another brunette filtered into Rachel's mind and she couldn't help but smile at the accuracy of her wisdom. Rachel rushed towards Quinn who wrapped her arms around her and crashed her lips against hers. The intensity of the kiss seemed to shatter any lingering doubt in the world as tongues wrestled for dominance and each woman felt herself reconnect to a special piece of her soul. Quinn leaned her forehead against Rachel's and smiled. "So, New York?" she asked.

"I want to be a part of it," sang Rachel with a laugh.

**THE END.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Glee, don't sue. Blah blah blah.

**A/N: **This is finally it. This fic is officially completed. I hope this satisfies you! Thank you so much for sticking with this story for as long as you all have. Thanks to all those who added this fic to alerts and for those who added me as favourite author, and those who left comments, messages and reviews. It has been a pleasure writing for all of you and your support is appreciated. Please R&R and enjoy this final installment. No seriously. Not kidding. It's all done. For realz. :)

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**Epilogue:**

Things moved swiftly after that. Rachel finished her performances in the small community theatre in Lima, Ohio, and Quinn later whisked her off to New York. Their relationship sizzled with a fresh intensity, still bordering on unstable passion, but none the less both women seemed to jump in with two feet.

Quinn shut the door, resting her palm against the sturdy wood for a minute, relishing the feel of the new space and enjoying the peaceful quiet of their new apartment. The soft click as she locked the door sounded with finality and a small smile played across her lips. She turned and spied Rachel through the archway. The brunette stood in a small clearing in the middle of the living room, taking in the space and mentally cataloguing each box with her brown eyes. Quinn crossed the floor and found Rachel almost at eye level, and cast a look down at the high heels still secured to her petite feet. Rachel smiled sheepishly and acquiesced to Quinn's silent request, slipping the heels off her feet. She stood flat-footed on the hardwood floor, looking up into hazel eyes. "Happy now?" she asked somewhat sarcastically. Quinn laughed softly at her tiny girlfriend and slipped her arms around her waist. "You have no idea," she whispered against her hair. Rachel filled with effervescent elation at the soft melody of Quinn's voice. The breathy, honey tone mixed with the vibration she felt against her body, and the tranquillity of the recently acquired new environment gave Rachel the impression of dizzying possibilities and promises of the future.

It was a stark contrast to the weeks leading up to their move. Long, sleepless nights for Rachel, long bouts of stubborn silence from Quinn. Every opening of Rachel's mouth ended with Quinn slamming a door, and every slamming of a door opened a floodgate of fresh tears for Rachel. Their journey was marred by impatience, arguments and frustration; both parties were to blame and both parties eventually took responsibility. They teased out solutions, sometimes slowly and painfully, other times effortlessly… Rachel would fold herself into Quinn's arms and no matter how impenetrable her silence was the warmth of the small body trying to climb inside her melted away that harsh exterior. Sometimes they would cry together. No more so than days after Quinn and Victoria's fight.

_Quinn dumped the bag of junk food on the kitchen counter and pulled out the ice cream as she yanked the top drawer open and fumbled for a spoon. She bounded up the stairs with her prize and pushed the door to Rachel's room open. "New York Super Fudge Chunk, one spoon, and a pair of very loving arms await you, provided you give me just one smile," she announced happily. The bleak interior startled Quinn as she took in the drawn curtains and the small lifeless lump hidden under the blankets. She'd come back with ice cream and various other treats, intent on some kind of movie marathon to pick up Rachel's mood. Santana had told her about the irregular mood swings that Rachel sometimes experienced. Some days she just missed the intoxicating euphoria of a good fix, other times it was the weight of memories like scars that she carried with her. Rachel was brilliant on stage because she'd spent most of her everyday life acting, and it was for this reason that days like this were so much more intense; no one ever saw it coming. Quinn placed the ice cream on the bedside table and climbed onto the bed, moulding herself around Rachel's compacted form. The small brunette's body started shaking with her sobs and Quinn mumbled nonsensical utterances for comfort as her mind transported her back to the room in the beach house. Quinn stroked Rachel's arm a few times before finding her hand and lacing their fingers together. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asked gently. Quinn winced as the question only made Rachel cry harder. She waited for the sobs to die down in intensity as she held onto the shuddering body, all the while racking her brain for some kind of solution. It didn't escape her that she was completely unprepared to handle a situation like this, especially since she hadn't been around to witness a breakdown first hand. She had only ever spoken to Rachel over the phone during these episodes. She didn't understand why Rachel would succumb to this darkness, and try as she might; nothing seemed to make it better. Quinn was a 'fixer', if she saw a problem she felt it was her duty to find a solution. As she stared numbly at the condensation sliding down the carton of ice cream sitting on the nightstand, she knew it was going to take more than dessert to shift Rachel's mood. So Rachel cried and shook, and Quinn watched the trickling water collect in a pool on the wooden surface until it occurred to her that she should put the ice cream in the freezer so it wouldn't go to waste. She disengaged herself, picked up the carton and disappeared downstairs. _

_She shut the freezer with more force than was necessary and sighing with frustration she tilted her face up to stare at the kitchen ceiling that separated her and Rachel. She wanted to march back upstairs, yank the curtains open and pull the woman from the bed, she wanted to tell her to stop crying because everything was fine and they were supposed to be happy. She wanted to be selfish, she wanted to have her own way. And there it was, the cold kernel of truth. The realization caused it to rupture and covered all her thoughts in a bitter, inky residue. She cursed her own weakness, knowing what a disappointment she was. It hadn't taken long for her to revert to her usual habits. Not only had she managed to make the situation all about her feelings, she had once again managed to leave Rachel when she was vulnerable and low. She grabbed the gold star glass from the shelf, filled it with water and returned to Rachel's side. _

"_I thought you'd left," said Rachel hoarsely as Quinn knelt down next to her side of the bed, offering her the glass of water.  
Quinn shook her head. "I realized how much you hate that. But I hate watery ice cream so I put it back in the freezer for later," she answered, trying her best not to upset her girlfriend any further.  
"Yeah, later might be better," agreed Rachel. Quinn nodded and nervously moved her hand to smooth Rachel's hair, giving her a reassuring smile as she awkwardly stepped on eggshells. "I'm sorry," Rachel apologized weakly, her voice hollow and tired. "I didn't really want you to see me like this," she admitted shakily. Quinn cocked her head, silently asking for some further explanation as she continued to play distractedly with the matted locks of Rachel's hair. "It's another reason for you to run," she shrugged, "And you hardly need an incentive." Quinn instantly drew her hand away from Rachel and her hazel eyes took on that granite quality which seemed to smoulder with anger-coated hurt.  
"You never told me what was wrong," Quinn said, opting instead to change the subject. She knew she would lose her temper if the broken woman refused to give her an honest reply. She watched her thoughtful expression turn to a look of anxious terror and waited for an answer.  
"I'm scared of saying the wrong thing," Rachel said slowly when Quinn raised her eyebrows again. She could feel the thinning threads of their relationship pull taut and stretch to breaking point. She was constantly terrified that she would be the reason those fine threads would snap and cause her world to collapse around her. She tried so hard to keep all of her demons at bay, and for the most part she was steadily recovering. Some days were harder than others but she was born to perform, and perform she did. Then there were these days. Days where she was heavy with regret, pregnant with vicious thoughts, and buried under a mountain of doubts, fears and debilitating sadness. It was days like these where it was impossible to affix a painted on smile and power through the shit storm raging within her. It was days like these when intoxicating weakness filtered through her veins, made her feel worthless and filled her with self-loathing. She wasn't sure if this was part and parcel of staying clean – she didn't have the luxury of shooting up to disappear into a hazy dimension of non-existence – or if this was a pre-existing condition. Perhaps her emotional wavelength had yet to adjust to something normal._

_Quinn wondered what Rachel was thinking about with such intense concentration. She stroked her cheek with her thumb in an effort to gently coax the girl back to her. "There's nothing to be scared of," whispered Quinn, "I'll protect you."  
"How can you protect me from myself?" she asked.  
"Have you seen you? You're tiny," she joked, "I can take you." Quinn's gamble paid off when Rachel rewarded her with the smallest half-smile. It was a start. "There she is," said Quinn quietly, giving Rachel a smile of her own. She decided to broach a subject that so far had been shot down every time it was brought up. She closed her eyes momentarily as she mentally prepared herself. "What about rehab?" she ventured quickly, ripping open the discussion like she would rip off a bandaid.  
Rachel stared at her blankly. "What about it?" she asked, trying not to sound combative. Quinn delicately alluded to the fact that rehab was still an option, and there were plenty of great clinics they could look into. Rachel slowly shook her head and grabbed for Quinn's hand so she could squeeze it gently between hers. "Is that what you want?" she asked.  
"This is about what's best for you, Rachel."  
"No, it's about you wanting an immediate and clean solution to this problem," snapped Rachel. She immediately regretted her tone but it was too late to take back what she had said. Quinn ripped into her with unbridled outrage.  
"Well, forgive me for not wanting you to spend days in bed, crying your eyes out while I walk around on eggshells feeling useless!" the blond fired back heatedly.  
"We can't all shut off our feelings like you can, or run away and ignore them." Quinn stood abruptly and yanked her hand out of Rachel's as she did so. "Oh what a surprise, I guess that's your cue."  
"You're so frustrating!"  
"No, I'm sad, Quinn. Why can't you just let me be sad?" exploded Rachel. Their individual volumes had increased dramatically as each woman got more and more entrenched in their battle stations, digging in deep to defend their positions. Rachel stared hard at Quinn, daring her to walk out, and Quinn stared back, daring her to call her bluff. They were both painfully aware that they were fighting again and both contemplated if this was all they had to look forward to in New York. Their flaring tempers slowly cooled off as they acknowledged the dreariness of a future that consisted of no more than this. _

_Quinn was the first to speak, folding her arms and stepping closer to the bed. "I never said you couldn't be sad," she said softly.  
"You make it so hard to be anything less than what you want," Rachel sighed. Quinn's eyes filled with tears at the desperation in Rachel's voice. "I tell you how I'm feeling and you tell me to feel better, like it's an option I'm ignoring." She paused momentarily before continuing, "And if I'm upset you assume I'm going to use, or that I want to. I'm not constantly on the brink of destruction, Quinn."  
Hazel eyes blinked back more tears and she slowly shook her head, unable to meet Rachel's gaze. "That's what it feels like," she yelled finally. "Like you're always a second away from disappearing. And if I can keep you happy, then I can keep you here!" Rachel's face fell as she witnessed Quinn's collapse, all the emotion pouring steadily out of her through the unseen cracks of her once impermeable armour. She leapt out of bed and rushed to take Quinn into her arms but faltered when Quinn turned away from her. "Don't. I'm fine," she said tightly. Rachel hesitated for a split-second before moving her arms around the taller woman's waist. Again she shrugged her off like the touch burned. "I don't need to be held." Rachel relinquished her hold immediately and stepped away awkwardly, her arms wrapped around herself instead.  
"What are we doing?" she asked barely above a whisper, "Besides destroying each other." Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she padded back towards the bed and sat on its edge, still facing Quinn but staring down at the carpet.  
"We're not," Quinn answered half-heartedly, the empty words unconvincing even to her. The silence returned, settling over them like a snowdrift. Neither had any fight left in them to dig their way out. After a while Rachel left to have a shower and Quinn sat alone with her thoughts. _

_The rest of the day passed awkwardly with idle conversation carefully intermingled with estranged silence. Later that night Quinn lay back against her pillows and stared at the ceiling. Rachel shut the door and looked at her. She was unsure of what to say, but she knew they couldn't go on like this. She walked towards the bed and climbed on top of Quinn, placing one knee on either side of Quinn's body, and looked down into her hazel eyes. The feeling of Rachel's body on top of her caused Quinn's heart to thud wildly in her chest. It had been a long time since she and Rachel had been intimate, both women deciding that it only proved to be a quick fix which later lead to further ruptures in their relationship. Rachel realized the predicament at the same time Quinn had, a slight blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks as she tried to shift into a less provocative position. Quinn placed her hands on Rachel's hips in an effort to stabilize her. The familiar touch made Rachel's mouth dry and sent a faint bolt of heat straight to her centre. It took her a minute to remember why she had climbed on top of Quinn in the first place, and when she looked into the now darkened hazel eyes below her she felt an unquestionable need to press her lips against Quinn's inviting mouth. As Quinn's thumbs gingerly rubbed small circles on her hips Rachel gave way to temptation and bent down to crush their lips together. Need filled both women in an instant of pure passion. Soon Rachel was moaning into the kiss as Quinn slipped her tongue into her mouth and explored her, massaging her tongue with hers. _

_They kissed each other hungrily and when they eventually broke apart, panting and gasping from the need for oxygen and each other, they locked eyes. Rachel read the panic in Quinn's eyes and whispered that she should stop thinking before she pulled her tank top over her head and exposed her breasts. Quinn pulled Rachel back down into another steamy kiss before flipping them over so that the brunette was pressed against the bed. She ghosted her fingertips over Rachel's breast and watched with satisfaction as she bit her lip in ecstasy. "We really shouldn't," Quinn's husky voice whispered close to her ear, her breath tickling her as she added, "But I just want you so fucking bad right now." Then her lips attached to the tan skin of Rachel's neck and she diligently set about leaving a mark on the exposed skin, enjoying the cries of pleasure exiting her girlfriend's mouth as she took a hardened nipple between her thumb and index finger. Rachel tangled her hand in Quinn's messy, golden mane while she panted and gasped in between the words she uttered like a desperate prayer. "Do you get it now? We all have our junk and my junk is you. You're my drug of choice now, Quinn." Quinn lifted her head to look at Rachel's face. She dimly registered the familiar line of the song somewhere in her foggy brain and she wasn't sure if she truly understood the confession, but she did know she felt the same need for Rachel. "Baby, please stop thinking and fuck me," begged Rachel. She didn't wait for Quinn to consent before hastily tearing off her shorts and stripping Quinn's clothes off her body, wanting nothing more than to feel soft, ivory skin pressed against her own naked body. Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand and moved it down between them. Quinn groaned loudly at the silky heat that greeted her fingers. "Fuck," she moaned as her dexterous digits started stroking Rachel's folds, lubricating them easily before she entered her with two long fingers. Rachel bucked desperately against Quinn's hand as the blond thrust in and out of her. She moaned Quinn's name loudly, gripping the sheets as she tried to open herself completely to Quinn, needing to feel her everywhere. Her tan skin tingled with smouldering heat while Quinn's mouth sucked and kissed her breasts, her tongue moving at a distinctive rhythm to the thrusts of her hand and making Rachel's head explode pleasurably. Rachel needed to feel even more, to experience even more, so willing her mouth to make more than incomprehensible moans and indistinguishable curses, she whispered something close to Quinn's ear. She nodded her head and slowly withdrew her fingers from Rachel's entrance and licked them clean while the brunette watched captivated while she struggled to remember how to move. _

_Rachel spread Quinn's legs and hooking her arms under her thighs for better access slowly started to lick up and down her slit. The first caress of Rachel's tongue sent Quinn into a slow motion meltdown, her breathing became shallow and she whimpered as Rachel's mouth explored her delicate folds. She placed a hand on the head situated between her legs and moaned emphatically when the brunette sucked on her clit. Quinn raised her hips into Rachel's mouth, contorting her body as wave after wave of pleasure shot through her courtesy of the talented tongue swirling inside of her. When Rachel was satisfied that Quinn was suitable ready for her, she looked up at her glowing face and smirked at her. She sat up on her knees and moved to extend Quinn's legs out in front of her. It took a few seconds for Quinn to understand what position Rachel had wanted to try, but when she lifted her leg up onto her shoulder and began to scoot closer to Quinn's exposed centre, she instantly felt her body flush with anticipation. Rachel looked deep into Quinn's eyes, her brown eyes darkened with lust as she ran a hand up and down her thigh before pressing herself against the eager woman's open pussy. Rachel slowly started grinding against Quinn who had gripped onto Rachel's thighs as she thrust up against her wet heat. "Fuck, baby," moaned Rachel, who was enjoying the more dominant position and controlled the speed at which their clits met.  
"More," was all Quinn could gasp out. She had never felt this good before, feeling Rachel hot and wet rubbing against her most sensitive parts made her lose her mind. Rachel, hungry to please, added a little more pressure, causing her to moan even louder as she and Quinn scissored. A string of obscenities punctuated by Rachel's name flowed from Quinn's mouth and Rachel knew she was close. They picked up the speed and thrust against each other frantically, building an intense orgasm between them and coming undone with each other's names on their lips. Rachel fell back against the bed, panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, exhausted. Her body shuddered with the aftershocks of climax and her head swam. Quinn moaned leisurely, her body completely relaxed while she licked her lips and smiled. It wasn't a permanent fix, but fuck it felt good._

Rachel stretched up onto her toes and brushed her lips along Quinn's jaw, bringing her back to the living room where the blond still had her arms around her. "I like it here," said Rachel, "But perhaps we could start unpacking?" Quinn smiled apologetically and kissed Rachel's forehead. They divided the rooms between themselves and set about unpacking the contents of the boxes, transforming the new apartment into a home.

Things weren't always perfect but they loved each other. This was their chance to make things right and both Rachel and Quinn felt confident about where they were headed. No more running, all or nothing.

THE END.


End file.
